Thicker Than Water
by Youko Koenma
Summary: YYHHP xover. At Koenma's request, Kurama must get to know the greatgrandson he'd neglected for years. And poor Harry, who never realized he had family other than the Dursleys, will be drawn into a world of demons and violence. Complete summary within.
1. Prologue

**Summary:**  5th year AU. Spoilers for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. At Koenma's request, Kurama becomes involved with the great-grandson he'd never met--Harry Potter. And poor Harry, who'd never known a loving family, finds himself drawn into a world of demons and violence, where wizards are reviled for their contempt for and systematic oppression of nonhumans. Are the two worlds incompatible, as Kurama believes, or will Harry manage to be part of both the wizarding and demon worlds? Will be slash/yaoi. 

**Author's Notes:** This is my first time writing Harry Potter… and it's been quite awhile since I've written YYH. Just so you know ^^;; 

**Disclaimer:** Yu Yu Hakusho belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro, Shounen Jump, et al. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, despites the millions I'm making off this ***_coughIwishcough_**_*_

**Prologue**

         The mists swirled around his feet as he strode purposefully over the rocky ground. An oppressive silence hung like a faint miasma in the stale air. Before him loomed an ancient castle. It rose from the bleak and otherwise faceless landscape like the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the Sahara desert. Tacky, and inappropriate. Perhaps, he mused, it would have been less incongruous had it not appeared to be surrounded for miles by nothing but barren, rocky soil. Nevertheless, it stood out like an Armani suit on a K-mart sales rack. There wasn't a soul in sight.

         No pun intended.

         Kurama stood before the large gates looking cool and unruffled, as though being summoned to the Spirit World was as normal as going to the super market. It wasn't, but since Kurama had spent the last several years as a Spirit Detective (and hadn't been officially relieved of his duties), he wasn't too worried.

         As was the status quo in Spirit World, he was the only one who _wasn't_ worried about something. As the gates opened before him, he found himself smiling at the usual frantic bustling that greeted his eyes.

         "Kurama." George the Oni bowed low to him. "If you'll follow me. Koenma anxiously awaits your arrival." Kurama arched a delicate brow at that but followed quietly, curiosity roused. George was looking more harassed than usual—and that was saying something. His curiosity was further roused when they reached the office of Koenma, and Kurama was able to observe the toddler looking unusually solemn.

         As chief administrator of the Spirit World, answerable only to his father, (Emperor) Enma-Daiou, Koenma was in a very stressful position. If one could say anything about Koenma, it was that he dealt well with the stresses of his position—by delegating them. This caused perhaps twice as much stress among his underlings, but left Koenma himself generally cheerful and relatively carefree. Kurama secretly suspected Koenma's regular use of his toddler form was an expression of his unwillingness to shoulder the burden of responsibility placed upon him by his father. Kurama could count on his right hand the number of times he'd seen Koenma in his teenage body: At the demonic Dark Martial Arts tournament, when he'd sponsored his team of Spirit Detectives; during the Sensui fiasco, when a former Spirit Detective had gone bad and attempted to build a Gate between the human and demon worlds; and during the tournament held to decide which demon was qualified (read: powerful) enough to rule the Demon World, when Urameshi Yusuke, Spirit Detective extraordinaire, was competing in place of his ancestor, Raizen.

         He wasn't in teenage form at the moment, but was so disturbed he forgot to curtly dismiss George after he'd announced Kurama's arrival. Curious, indeed. "Come here, Kurama," the toddler beckoned with one small, pudgy hand. "There is a matter of some concern in the Human World right now that you are—rather indirectly—connected to."

         Kurama stood by Koenma's large desk. Usually piled high with documents, it was now wiped clean except for a single folder, which Koenma seemed to handle with distaste. "What is it, Koenma?" His expression darkened. "It has nothing to do with my family, does it?"

         Fathomless brown eyes peered cautiously up at him. "I'm afraid it does, actually." He absently ran one finger along the spine of the folder as Kurama frowned down at him. "Tell me, have you heard the name 'Tom Riddle' before?"

Kurama's frown deepened. "I can't say that I have." 

"How about 'Voldemort?'"

         Comprehension dawned on Kurama's face. "Ah, yes. The wizard's bogeyman." He couldn't help the slightly contemptuous curl of his lips. He didn't hold the wizarding world in high regard, and for very good reasons. "What possible connection could my family have to a megalomaniac British wizard? A _dead_ wizard, I might add."

         Koenma suckled his pale blue pacifier thoughtfully. "Not as dead as the wizards thought, I'm afraid—I knew all along, of course—and now a lot less dead than I'm comfortable with." His expression was troubled as he nervously fingered the edge of the folder. "He caused a great deal of trouble before he was defeated the first time. He's quite capable of single-handedly reducing the wizard population to nothing—and don't give me that look, Kurama; they're human and the Spirit World is responsible for them—and he'd eventually start killing normal humans as well."

         "As horrific as this is, I still fail to see how it involves my family." Kurama pursed his lips, trying hard to stamp down his disapproval. He disliked prejudice in general, but it was hard _not_ to be prejudiced against a group of people who could, in all fairness, be likened to Nazis led by Homer Simpson. Their relentless persecution of all things not human was legendary in certain circles, and there were a great deal of nonhumans who were extremely bitter towards wizards.

         "Yes. That. Well." Koenma pulled a sheet from out of the folder and placed it before Kurama. "Your family tree—at least, all of it that's relevant to this conversation." Kurama leaned forward, eyes narrowing as they raked over the forked lines. And then they widened in shock. Oh, no, he couldn't possibly be—!

         "B-but that's impossible!" George exclaimed loudly in his ear. Kurama winced slightly, but was prepared to voice agreement. "I mean, he couldn't _possibly_ be his own great-grandfather. The odds against it must be six billion to one!"

         Ah. Kurama smirked slightly as Koenma waved a small first threateningly at the oni. "Don't be stupid, George. The odds _were_ against him dying at the same time one of his progeny was pregnant, but it's only natural that he ended up in that particular fetus. Blood calls blood and all that."

         George looked appropriately awed. Kurama just shook his head, deciding to bring the conversation back on track. "I think I see your point, Koenma. What I don't understand is what, exactly, you want from me."

         The junior deity gave him a sly look, a small smile forming around his pacifier. "This Voldemort has caused us great deal of paperwork, but, as you know, the Spirit World can't interfere in these matters directly unless there are creatures from another realm involved. You, on the other hand... You're on good standing with us right now, and should you choose to interfere on behalf of your blood kin, the Spirit World wouldn't stand in your way. And if you wanted to recruit a few of your allies... Well, I think we might be willing to look the other way."

Kurama closed his eyes. He felt a headache coming on. He already knew from his experiences in the Human World that children were more trouble than they were worth, and this one was bound to be ten times the normal amount of trouble. 


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro, Shounen Jump, et al. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, despite the millions I'm making off this ***_coughIwishcough_**_*_

A/N: Voilà chapitre un! Here's the first chapter. Sorry it took so long, I've been terribly busy between classes, and the show I'm ASMing opening this weekend ^^ I'd like to give special thanks to Ish, my fabulous beta, for doing a wonderful job. 

To "Too Lazy to Sign In" – Thanks a lot! I do try to keep my stories as logical as possible. And yes, you'll get to see what Kurama and Harry's exact relationship is. In this very chapter, in fact ^_^

A/N Addendum: This story contains spoilers for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Frankly, the book has been out for so long, giving spoiler warnings seems pointless, but as a kind soul pointed out to me, there _are_ still people who haven't read it who might be upset. So, yeah. Spoilers for Harry Potter Book 5. Beware. 

**Thicker Than Water**

**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter was an extraordinary boy in many ways. He hated the summer holidays, for one, and even though it was barely two weeks into his vacation, he wished it was already time for school to start. He was also a wizard, and had spent the better part of the last four years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, learning to use his magic. He was also famous in the wizarding world, having mysteriously defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort when he was barely a year old. But most importantly, said Dark Lord had regained his body with the help of Harry's blood, and was now bent on destroying Harry.

Many people would die for the ability to do magic. Harry feared he was going to do just that. 

Currently, Harry was sitting cross-legged just outside the living room, listening to the evening news. Normal boys would have been able to sit in front of the television, but Harry's relatives hated him, and would become quite irate if he spent more time in their presence than absolutely necessary. Of course, usually Harry didn't care enough about what was on the television to make it an issue, but now he was compelled to listen to the news for reports of mysterious deaths that may have been caused by Voldemort. There had been nothing so far, but Voldemort hadn't been back in power for all that long. In Harry's opinion, it was only a matter of time.

The fact that there was no news from the wizarding world wasn't helping to ease his troubled mind either. He was now getting the Daily Prophet delivered, scanning the headlines for any mysterious deaths or perhaps an admission by Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, that Voldemort had returned. Of course, the latter seemed a bit unlikely when just a few weeks ago Fudge had been confronted not only with the bodies of Cedric Diggory and Barty Crouch, Jr. (the former murdered by Voldemort's servant Wormtail, the latter the Death Eater responsible for creating the Portkey which placed the two Hogwarts champions in Voldemort's clutches), but also the reactivation of the Dark Mark, as shown by Professor Severus Snape. Despite the evidence, the Minister had refused to accept that the Dark Lord had indeed been resurrected. 

It also didn't help that there had been no news from Dumbledore either. Surely _something_ must have happened since Harry had left Hogwarts: a mysterious death, the Dark Mark appearing in the sky, _anything_! But there was only silence from the Headmaster. His friends weren't much help either; Hermione was still at her Muggle parents' house (though she planned on joining Ron in a few weeks), and Ron…. Ron simply wasn't saying. Apparently, he was now staying at the headquarters for Dumbledore's anti-Voldemort group. All in all, it was a very frustrating situation. And so Harry faithfully followed the Muggle news, and waited.

It was in the middle of another boring report on the heat wave that the phone rang. Harry froze, hoping that Aunt Petunia wouldn't notice him as she passed by. No such luck, but she merely scowled down at him, saying nothing. He sighed with relief, daring to peer around the corner for a peek at the television screen, catching snatches of Aunt Petunia's conversation.

"Hello? Yes, this is Petunia Dursley... Yes, I remember my father mentioning... Oh really? You don't say! .... Oh, yes, we'd be delighted to have you over for a few days. ...Yes... How is your mother? I don't think we've heard from your family since my father died. .... Oh yes, yes, that's lovely.... How delightful.... Well, we'll be thrilled to have you over, yes... Still married, with just one son, fifteen years old now.... Oh, no, my sister died.... Er, yes, a tragedy—car accident, you know.... Oh, yes, they had a son; he's still alive and living with us.... Of course, of course.... When did you say you'd be arriving? ...Thursday? Two o'clock? ...Yes, yes, my husband can pick you up. How do you spell that? ..… S-H-U-I-C-H-I… Yes, he'll be there. .... Yes, I can't wait to see you Ten minutes later, Harry was almost trampled as Aunt Petunia rushed back into the room. 

"Vernon, you won't believe who just called!" Uncle Vernon opened his large mouth, but Aunt Petunia went on. "My Japanese cousin Kaji's son, Shuichi! He's going to be in England this week, and called to let me know he'd drop by. He'll be staying with us a few days, of course."

"Of course," grunted Uncle Vernon, looking a little nonplussed by his wife's enthusiasm. Harry was more than a bit startled himself, as he'd never seen his horse-faced aunt so excited about _anything_. 

Aunt Petunia clasped her hands together, beaming. "Oh, my Duddykins will be so excited to meet his second cousin. I bet he'll be charmed by Dudley. He sounded like such a nice young man. Completely normal," she added in a sharper, more normal voice, turning to give Harry a dirty look. "So there had better be no trace of your... abnormality... when he arrives on Thursday." Uncle Vernon nodded, his face going purple at the reminder of the existence of his least favorite person. 

"And you'd better stay out of his way, or I'm going to take a strap to you. Do you hear me, boy?"

"Yes," Harry muttered resentfully, getting to his feet and slouching off to his room. Stupid relatives. Stupid television with nothing important on. Although he had to admit that his stomach gave a lurch of excitement at the thought of meeting this unknown relative. He just hoped this "Shuki" wasn't as close-minded as the rest of his family.

~**~

"I didn't even know I had a second cousin in Japan," Dudley whined for about the fiftieth time that afternoon. It was Thursday; the pervious days had flown by in a flurry of activity. With second-cousin Shuichi's imminent arrival, everything had to be cleaned. The guest bedroom had to be vacuumed, dusted, and aired out, and the sheets needed to be washed. The rest of the house had to be scrubbed till it shone. The windows needed to be washed; the garden needed more pruning than usual. Aunt Petunia had discovered a speck of dust on her good china, so every piece needed to be washed. And naturally, neither Uncle Vernon nor Dudley lifted a hand to help, leaving the menial labor to Harry whilst his aunt supervised and nitpicked.

"I wanted to go out with my friends, not meet some relative I've never even heard of!" Dudley glared malevolently around the living room, looking for something to take his frustration out on. Harry, seated on the couch next to him, scooted to the other end when Dudley's eyes rested on him. Dudley's diet hadn't affected his weight very much, but his general shape had improved. He was now a Junior Heavyweight Boxing champion. He didn't dare lay a finger on Harry, of course—he was still terrified of magic—but that didn't stop Harry from being cautious. He'd rather not end up on the wrong end of Dudley's fists, thank you very much.

"Don't be silly, Dudley. Of _course_ you want to meet your cousin. He's come all the way from Japan to see you," said Aunt Petunia, beaming at them. "Daddy should be back any minute with Shuichi. And _you_—" She shot Harry a nasty look. "Do something about that hair. And don't you dare mention anything about that freak school of yours. Remember, you go to St. Brutus' Secure—"

"—Center for Incurably Criminal Boys," Harry finished resentfully. "I know, I know."

"Be sure that you do," she said, moving to stand behind the couch and smoothing down Dudley's hair as he scooted forward, trying to avoid her touch. 

"Come off it, Mum," he whined as Uncle Vernon's company car pulled into the driveway. 

Aunt Petunia froze, long neck craning to peer out the window. "That'll be them," she murmured, now smoothing her own hair as she glided to the door. Harry and Dudley exchanged glances, for the first and only time in complete agreement: Aunt Petunia was clearly not in her right mind.

This theory was proven when less then a minute later Aunt Petunia let out a short, shrill screech from the front step. Dudley gave a frightened yelp, but Harry raced forward, pushing past his Aunt, hand wrapped around the wand hidden in his pocket. He was ready for combat… only the bad guys seemed to be unprepared. They were rather conspicuous in their absence. No Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no terrifying magical creatures, only…

"_Mum_?"

He'd taken a step forward without realizing it, and forced himself to halt. No, it couldn't be his mother, It simply wasn't possible. And yet there she was, standing by the passenger side of Uncle Vernon's car, staring at him with his own eyes, wide and fixed on him with a kind of surprise and… recognition? Dark red hair spilled down past her shoulders….

…Her very broad, _masculine_ shoulders. Wearing white slacks and a tan leather jacket, and not looking much older than Harry himself. And her hair. In all the pictures Harry had of Lily, her hair had always hung completely straight, with barely a wave. But _this_ red hair was anything but; the few places it hung straight were obviously the result of gravity. Wild curls and flyaway strands made up the majority of it, as far as Harry could tell. But those eyes—if this wasn't his mother, then it must obviously be— 

"Shuichi," Uncle Vernon said, coming to the front step with a light blue suitcase in hand. He looked pale, and was casting an uneasy look at Aunt Petunia, who stood frozen in shock, mouth hanging open. "This is Petunia, my wife, and, er, our… nephew, Harry Potter."

Second-cousin-Shuichi's eyes seemed to get even bigger, if it were possible. Then he was all smiles, coming forward with his hand extended to Aunt Petunia. "A pleasure to meet you at last," he said.

Aunt Petunia swallowed hard—once, twice. Then she extended her hand… but not to take his hand, Rather, to touch his face, as if not believing what she was seeing. Harry couldn't blame her—he hardly believed it himself, even as he stood there, gaping at second-cousin-Shuichi, who was an almost exact replica of Harry's mother. "Amazing," she whispered, color coming back to her cheeks. "You look so much like her…" Then she shook herself firmly, and shook Shuichi's hand. "The pleasure is all ours," she said briskly. Doppelgangers, however inexact, were nonsense, and Petunia Dursley simply didn't hold with such things. The resemblance between this Japanese cousin and Petunia's long-dead sister was coincidence, nothing more. 

Harry had stopped gaping by the time Shuichi turned to him, looking somewhat puzzled. "Cousin Harry. I must admit, I've heard almost nothing about you and Dudley. I'm quite delighted to have this opportunity to get to know you." Shuichi's English was stiff and very correct in a way no native speaker's would have been, but otherwise was very good. 

"'S good to meet you, too," he said politely, staring boldly into his second cousin's eyes. If he focused only on the eyes, it was almost like looking in a mirror. Shuichi's cheekbones were more pronounced, his skin peaches-and-cream to Harry's slightly sun-tinted pallor, but their noses were the same, as well as the delicate, round curve of their jaws. The resemblance between them was strong, and Harry wondered for the first time if maybe he didn't take after his father as much as people seemed to think.

Shuichi held his gaze perhaps a tad longer than was strictly necessary, studying him intently. Harry was suddenly more aware than ever of the torn, stained and baggy hand-me-downs he wore, as well as the thrift shop sneakers that were currently in the process of falling apart. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he looked away.

"And you must be Dudley," said Shuichi, releasing Harry's hand and stepping around him. "My, you look just like your father! You must be terribly proud, Mr. Dursley." Did Harry only imagine the hint of irony in his words? 

"Call me Vernon, please—we're family, after all."

"Of course… Vernon." Was his smile a little stiff? Had Shuichi's eyes narrowed just a bit? His green-eyed cousin tossed another curious glance in his direction… and Harry wondered.

~**~

Dinner had been a strained affair. Despite herself, Aunt Petunia hadn't been able to keep her eyes off Shuichi—who, in turn had hardly turned his gaze from Harry. Dudley had been oblivious, but unfortunately Uncle Vernon hadn't. And Vernon had begun watching both Harry and Shuichi like a vulture that had spotted something bleeding on the rocks below. Clearly, he thought there was something not quite right about cousin Shuichi—or he just despised Shuichi's glorious red mane, which fell to the small of his back. Normal men didn't have hair like that. 

But Harry _knew_ there was something not right about the Japanese boy. And the more time he spent around Shuichi, the more he felt it: an unfamiliar tingle running up and down his spine, which seemed to grow stronger the closer he was to his second cousin. 

Frankly, it was making him just a teensy bit paranoid. 

Conspiracy theories were running through his head. There wasn't any actual proof that Shuichi was really who he claimed to be after all. He could be an imposter; he certainly didn't _look_ Japanese. Hell, there might not even _be_ a second cousin Shuichi on the family tree. The possibility that Shuichi could be a Death Eater chilled him to the bone. 

Hedwig hooted softly at him from the windowsill, where she perched after returning from a three-day hunting trip. Deciding it was a sign, he resolutely gathered parchment, ink and quill and began scribbling a letter to Sirius. He didn't want his godfather to think he was a complete coward, but Shuichi _felt_ strange, and something inside Harry's gut was telling him to trust his instinct. 

But he was still uneasy. So uneasy in fact, that when someone knocked lightly on his door he jumped, knocking over his ink jar in the process. The thick black liquid spilled over his almost-finished letter, all over the desk, on himself and on the carpet below. _'Oh no, the carpet!__ Aunt Petunia's gonna kill me.'_ He grabbed a dirty shirt and dropped to his knees, trying to sop up the mess before it stained. 

A second knock came, and before he could respond, the door opened. Shuichi - or whoever he was - stood on the threshold, looking uncertain. "Have I come at a bad time?" His green eyes took in the puddle of ink on the desk, the mess on the carpet and Harry's ink-soaked clothes.

"Ummm, actually..."

But Shuichi was already closing the door behind him. His chest tightening with fear, Harry released the shirt and slowly moved his hand to his pocket... and his wand. But Shuichi stopped at the desk, picking up Harry's eagle feather quill and examining it curiously. Harry froze as Shuichi set it back down, then fingered the parchment he'd been using to write his letter on. "Quite a mess," Shuichi remarked casually, eyes coming back to Harry.

The letter was unintelligible because of the spilled ink! "Calligraphy," he blurted as relief loosened his limbs. At least Shuichi wouldn't know he suspected anything. 

"What?" Shuichi looked startled.

"I was, um, practicing calligraphy. The old fashioned way. It's, er, a hobby."

But Shuichi was no longer paying any attention to him, and Harry almost panicked when he realized that Shuichi had spotted Hedwig. "Er, th-that's... um..." Raising his arm, Shuichi hooted softly and Harry trailed off in amazement as Hedwig left the windowsill to perch on Shuichi's arm. "....Hedwig. My... pet," he finished lamely. 

Shuichi held her at eye level as they studied one another. Whatever Hedwig saw seemed to satisfy her, for she proceeded to hop from Shuichi's arm to his shoulder and began nibbling on his hair. Shuichi gave a husky laugh, and Harry forced an uneasy grin.

"_Nyctea__scandiaca_?"

"_What_? "

"Your... pet. She's a _nyctea__ scandiaca_, isn't she? A Snowy Owl?"

"Oh... Er, yeah. Yeah, she is." He slid his hand into his pocket and began to fiddle nervously with his wand.

"Curious. I didn't think Snowy Owls were native to these parts."

Sweat beaded his brow. "Oh, they are. Yeah. But, you know, there aren't... many..." 

He faltered as Shuichi cocked a sardonic brow. "Indeed?"

"Yeah..." He grabbed the shirt and started going at the carpet again. His face was burning. If Shuichi really was a Death Eater, he'd already know why Harry had an owl. But if he _wasn't_... Harry didn't know whether owl raising was illegal or not, but maybe Shuichi would just assume Harry dabbled in some less-than-legal (albeit harmless) hobbies. 

"That isn't going to work," Shuichi said suddenly after several minutes of silence.

"Huh?"

"The ink. You're just rubbing it in more."

"Oh." Harry dropped the shirt and sat back on his heels, staring up at his second cousin and groping for something to say. "So, you, er, know a lot about animals, do you?"

"I like them," said Shuichi, lifting Hedwig off his shoulder and setting her on top of her cage, which sat on his desk. "So, what is the problem?"

Harry tensed. "What do you mean?"

Shuichi regarded him evenly. "I think you know what I mean. Your entire family has been acting very oddly towards me. Have I offended you in some way?"

"Oh no," said Harry with relief. "Nothing like that. It's just... well, you look a great deal like... like my mother."

The redhead raised his eyebrows. "Do I?"

"Yes. A lot like her. Actually, it's kinda scary how much you look like her. And you, you know, being Japanese and everything."

Shuichi laughed softly. "Well, I _am_ something of a genetic anomaly. My father—your mother and aunt's cousin—had red hair but looked mostly Japanese. I seem to have gotten all my looks from my grandmother." He absently tucked a hanging lock behind his ear. "But that still doesn't explain how, ah, _violently_ Petunia reacted to my presence."

"Oh." Harry looked down. "There were, you know, hard feelings between my mum and Aunt Petunia."

"I see," Shuichi said softly. "I hope she doesn't take out those 'hard feelings' on you."

Harry lifted his chin, fixing his eyes on Shuichi's forehead. "What makes you think that she does?" He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. 

"I just noticed that no one in this house seems to like you very much, and for the life of me I can't figure why."

Harry got to his feet, scowling. "What do you know, anyway? You've been here, what, nine hours?" 

Shuichi held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't mean to make you angry. But one doesn't have to be a _wizard_ to sense their hostility towards you." 

Harry hope he didn't look as horrified as he felt. _'Merlin,_ does _he know?_' He took an involuntary step backwards. Shuichi's expression was amused, but Harry thought he could detect some darker emotion underneath. 

"What's wrong, Harry?" Shuichi's husky alto sounded sinister to Harry's ears. "You're looking at me like I've become a werewolf or something."

"There's nothing wrong with werewolves," Harry said defensively. The best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher he'd ever had had been a werewolf.

"I never said there was," said Shuichi, looking a little surprised and even more amused. "I have nothing against them."

Harry's hand tightened convulsively around his wand. "Who are you?" he demanded harshly. "I mean, who are you _really_?" 

Amusement faded into thoughtfulness as Shuichi regarded Harry silently. Harry fought to stay still as the tingling along his spine intensified to the point that he was shivering uncontrollably. Unable to stand it and no longer feeling even remotely safe, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the red-head. "Stop whatever you're doing, or I'll hex you into next Tuesday."

"You can feel my energy," Shuichi said delightedly, looking not the least bit concerned by Harry's threat. "And your own energy is responding--how completely unexpected." Shuichi looked extremely pleased. 

"I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK IT OFF!" 

"Oh, do put your little toy away, Harry." When Harry made no move to do so, his "second cousin" locked his hands behind his neck, perhaps to prove to Harry that he meant no harm. _Perhaps_. "It's time you knew the truth about your ancestry, Harry. Come sit with me on the bed, and let me tell you a little story."

Harry slowly lowered his wand as Shuichi eased around him to sit on the bed. Harry pointedly seated himself at his desk chair, facing Shuichi, and laid his wand in his lap where it would be clearly visible. Shuichi pursed his lips in disapproval, but said nothing. 

"First, I must tell you that I am more than I appear to be. Much, much more. But I have never lied to you. I _am_ your second cousin Shuichi Minamino. But our relationship goes beyond that... as do I. So bear with me, because you may not immediately see the point of my tale. Now tell me, what do you know about demons?"

"Demons?" Harry asked blankly.

Shuichi's lips curled in contempt. "Nothing, I see. It shouldn't surprise me that the... _institution_ you attend hasn't taught you anything about them."

"There's nothing wrong with Hogwarts!"

Shuichi shrugged. "I won't argue with you on that point... yet. How about _kitsune_? Have you ever heard of them?"

"Nope."

He sighed heavily. "Then I guess I must start from the _very_ beginning. Well. Our story begins when man began to take his first steps on only two feet, when he harnessed fire, and began building crude tools with which to shape his environment. All creatures possess a measure of—well, we'll call it magical energy for now. Man possessed this magical energy as well, but to greater degrees than most creatures of the earth. When man found walking on four feet had become inconvenient, they willed it otherwise, and before too long were walking on two. Magical energy, even when unfocused, has the power to affect the physical world, including oneself."

Harry found himself nodding at this assessment, recalling the times when he'd magically re-grown his own hair by merely wishing it were back. 

"Mankind's early magical endeavors did not go unnoticed, however. There were—Beings, shall we say?—Beings who possessed great power of their own, Beings who _were_ power. They noticed. And no one can say exactly what such Beings were thinking—if their thought processes resembled ours at all—but soon new races of creatures graced the Earth. Creatures who could look like men at will, or look like perfectly normal animals until they choose to look otherwise. These races were endowed with innate knowledge of manipulating their own magical energy, and often the energy of the things around them, as well. _Kitsune_ are one such race. 

"_Kitsune_ are, for lack of a better term, fox-spirits. Native to Asia, the _kitsune_ are shape shifters who generally look like foxes, or humans with various fox-like features. Only the higher-ranking _kitsune_ can look completely human.

"Among the _kitsune_, rank is determined by how many tails one has. _Kitsune_ with only one tail are the weakest, while those with nine are the most powerful. Nine is also the maximum amount of tails a _kitsune_ can have."

"So, after they get nine tails, do they just... die?" Harry asked curiously. He was still suspicious, but the feeling was lessening with Shuichi's every word. 

Shuichi laughed. "Oh goodness, no, nothing like that. But they _do_ leave their corporeal forms behind, and ascend to a higher plane of existence."

"...Huh?"

"Er... never mind that now. Suffice it to say that they cease to exist in the physical world as you know it—but they don't die."

"I... see," Harry said uncertainly.

"Do you?" 

"No."

"Right. Don't worry about it. Anyway, our _real_ story begins some thousand-odd years ago. Men had grown in their abilities; they farmed, they invented, and they used pretty rocks and polished sticks to focus their energies. You see, they had discovered long ago that some men among them had the ability to manipulate matter on a cellular level, and they set themselves apart from other men. I speak, of course, of wizards. These men were unusual only in that they could affect _all_ matter, unlike most other creatures. _Kitsune_, for example, have a great affinity for nature, and most are therefore able to manipulate most plant matter on some level. Most humans do not posses this ability in any great degree. 

"You know, of course, that some wizards are more powerful than others." Harry nodded.

"This is because some people posses a great magical—or spiritual—energy. Well, there is another type of what you might call "magic." Wizards use their energies to manipulate matter, but it is also possible to use your energies _to manipulate your own spiritual energy_.

"This method, however, takes a great deal more power than manipulating matter – wizardry—does. So, while all humans are theoretically capable of learning to manipulate their spiritual energy, only a few have enough energy to do so. Are you still with me?"

Harry's mind was reeling with all this new information. "I-I think so. What you're saying is—I think—that wizards use their wands to manipulate—to make stuff—matter _change_? And other people can use their own energy - is it anything like electricity?" This was all rather confusing.

"It is not an entirely inaccurate analogy." Shuichi smiled at him, looking pleased. "This will make much more sense, of course, when you can see for yourself the nature of spiritual energy and how it's used. But I digress. Back to some thousand-odd years ago. There was a nine-tailed _kitsune_. His name was not Kurama then, but we will call him that for the sake of convenience. He, along with a few others, was about to depart from the physical world forever. The only problem was this: he was more connected to nature than most _kitsune_, and loved the Earth dearly and didn't want to leave it. Also, he felt that there was a great deal more knowledge to be had, and he wanted it. So when the time came, instead of leaving the physical world behind, he gave up four of his tails and fled his brethren, taking shelter in Western human lands as well as the Demon World.

"The Demon World is exactly what it sounds like. A world of demons. It is a different plane of existence, but one more closely connected to _this_ plane. And demons.... Well, I suppose we can get into that later. Suffice it to say that he hid among demons for a great many years, venturing rarely into the human world. But on one such occasion, not so long ago as his kind count years, he had returned to the Human World—to this very country, in fact. A modest little village, as such things were judged in the early nineteen hundreds. It was during a summer festival, and just outside the little village he met an extraordinary young human girl, whose spiritual energy shone bright and strong. She was beautiful as well; her hair was dark red, and hung in wild, loose curls to her waist. Her eyes were like emeralds, and her smile was like sunshine." Shuichi smiled at Harry's sharp intake of breath.

"They became lovers that very evening, and the _kitsune_ Kurama ended up staying a month in the quiet woods nearby. Every night she would sneak out to see him, and every night they would lie together under the stars.

"But one night, she stopped coming. Kurama waited, but when she didn't show up the next night, or the next, or the night after, he assumed (his ego greatly wounded) that she had become bored with him. And so he left, and did not return. 

"What he did not know was that the girl had gotten with child, and when she confessed to her parents her love affair with the _kitsune_, they forbid her to ever see him again. So ashamed were they that they kept her locked in the attic until she gave birth to two beautiful twin babies, a boy and a girl. And then they cast her out of their home."

Shuichi sighed, bowing his head. "Well, things ended up not going so well for Kurama, either. But it wasn't until many years later. Not even twenty years ago, in fact, in the Demon World, where he was hunted down and mortally wounded by his enemies. It is, perhaps, a _kitsune's_ greatest strength that he is able to give up one of his tails in order to cheat death. And Kurama did just that; he sacrificed one of his remaining tails, and was able to penetrate the veil between the demon and human worlds. 

"He should have died anyway, or as good as, for without an anchor in the physical he would be little more than sentient energy. But luck was with him, for against all odds there _was_ an anchor available to him. You see, his only daughter, whom he never knew he had, had eventually wed and had a child of her own—whose own new wife was, at that very moment, in the first stages of pregnancy. Kurama was able to anchor his spirit within his part-human great-grandson, and has dwelled therein for nineteen years."

Harry's throat was dry. He had to swallow several times before he could speak. "Are you—are you saying that..."

"Yes Harry." Shuichi raised his head, and his green eyes seemed to glow—no, wait, they _were_ glowing. "The woman Kurama mated with was none other than Eliza Evans—our mutual great-grandmother."

"So... you're not human."

"Yes." 

"And _I'm_ not human."

"That's correct." 

Harry felt strangely dizzy, as if the entire world had been pulled out from underneath his feet. "That... it just can't be right."

Shuichi—Kurama?—stood with a small smile. "I didn't expect you to take me at face value Harry, but I do think I can show you something that will convince you."

His green eyes glowed even brighter, and the room temperature dropped by several degrees. Crying out, Harry scrambled backwards, knocking over his chair. The sensation along his spine was almost violent, causing involuntary twitching. The transformation was both similar and completely different than an animagus', but when it was finished, where Shuichi once stood was now...

...Kurama.

More than a head taller, with pale skin and golden eyes; his hair fell in a shimmering silver fall to his waist, and fox ears the same color poked through the silky strands. He wore light, fluttery tunic and trousers of pale silver, made from no material Harry recognized. A silver tail peeked out at him from behind him. 

Kurama smiled. "Say hello to your great-grandfather, Harry."

~**~

It wasn't until several hours later that Kurama closed the guest room door behind him with a soft sigh. Once Harry had gotten over his initial wariness, he'd had a slew of questions. Kurama had answered as best he could, but some things he would simply have to _show_ Harry, something he couldn't do… yet. 

"So, what do you think?"

Crimson eyes studied him thoughtfully from across the room. "He'll do, I suppose. But he trusts way too easily. I'd probably have run you through ten minutes into the conversation, then asked questions of your corpse." .

Kurama smiled wryly as he moved further into the room and began to strip. "Not everyone can be as naturally paranoid as you, Hiei." The short fire demon grunted, though whether in affirmation or disgust, Kurama couldn't tell. "But he _was_ cautious, you have to give him that. It certainly took me long enough to gain his trust."

"Did he really try to use his _wand_ on you?" Hiei's tone spoke volumes of contempt. The half-Koorime had been seated in the open window when Kurama had left the room; luckily the guest room's being next to Harry's made for easy eavesdropping.

"Well, I think he might have tried something if I'd provoked him." Kurama firmly pushed aside his natural contempt. It wasn't _Harry's_ fault he didn't know any better. "But did you feel his energy?"

Hiei smirked, but Kurama could tell his great-grandson _cum_ second cousin had raised Hiei's interest. "His power responded to you, and flared when he felt threatened. He's a lot like Yusuke was when we first met him—all raw energy and no control. But at least Yusuke was _aware_ of his powers. _This_ boy hasn't got any idea of his real potential. He didn't even know where his _magic_ came from!"

"That's my fault as much as anyone's," Kurama said reasonably. "I should have started tracking down my progeny as soon as this body was mature enough. Had I done so, I might have been able to get to Harry before his—_induction—_into the wizarding world."

"It isn't too late. We should just take him back to Japan—or even better, the Demon World - and leave this Voldemort clown to kill off as many wizards as he likes."

"He's a little green for the Demon World just yet, Hiei." Kurama's expression was thoughtful. "Although your other idea has merit—at least for a little while. I thought as much as soon as I first felt his power flaring. But—"

"_But_?"

"We'll see." Kurama smiled serenely. "I want to give it another day, and if it still seems like a good idea, I'll ask him if he wants to spend the rest of the summer with me."

"And if he doesn't?"

Green eyes hardened, and Hiei was gratified to see his favorite aspect of Kurama lurking just beneath the surface. "If that's the case, I'm afraid he won't have any choice. No more children of _mine_ are going to be wizards… at least, not if I have anything to say about it."

~To be continued

If you like it, feel free to review. I won't get upset ^_~


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: I'm glad people are enjoying this ^_^ The next chapter may be awhile, as the semester is slowly drawing to a close at my Uni and I have about a billion assignments to complete. There are a few reviewer responses at the end of the chapter. If I didn't get to you, don't be sad—I still love you ^_^

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro, Shounen Jump, et al. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, despites the millions I'm making off this ***_coughIwishcough_**_*_

__________________________________________

Thicker Than Water 

**Chapter 2**

By mid-afternoon of the next day, Kurama was mortally glad he'd not made any attempts to contact this branch of the family previously. A little over twenty-four hours with them and he knew the Dursleys would have driven him completely mad. 

 It was only him, Petunia, Dudley and Harry that day. Vernon had been unable to take the day off -"Terribly important business deal, I'm sure you understand"- but had graciously left the car so Petunia could show him around. Dudley would have gladly stayed behind, but for Petunia's insistence; Harry would have been left behind, but for Kurama's insistence. 

            Dudley whined constantly. As far as Kurama could tell, he only stopped whining to eat or to pick on Harry. Petunia gushed incessantly about how wonderful her family (at least her husband and son) were, pausing only to frown askance at him whenever he started getting too friendly with Harry. Kurama was nearly at his wit's end, but Harry seemed to be taking it all stoically enough. Of course, he'd had his entire life to get used to it. Still, Kurama couldn't help the mounting sympathy he was feeling for his youngest great-grandchild.

            They were currently maneuvering their way through the crowded corridors of the Surrey Quay Shopping Centre. Kurama could easily think of two dozen people off-hand he'd rather go shopping with. Dudley was bored by everything and not even store demos for gory first-person shooters could keep his attention for long. Petunia was clearly a woman who didn't shop for pleasure. Kurama didn't think she did _anything_ for pleasure. Harry seemed to enjoy _looking_ at things at least, but hadn't purchased so much as a single video game (Dudley had gotten five). 

            Now Kurama steered his wayward family into a bookstore. He intended to get a few easy-to-read books for his stepbrother, who also bore the name Shuichi. He really needed to work on his English - he wasn't doing very well in class. Kurama found himself suddenly thinking that having Harry around would probably help young Shuichi's English tremendously....

            _'Now, now,_' he told his subconscious firmly. _'I'm still not sure if I should take him back with me._'  Still, he knew it would probably be best to get the boy away from both the wizards _and_ his immediate family. Before it was too late, and the boy was firmly entrenched in the wizarding world. True, he hadn't shown any signs of the usual wizard prejudices - in fact, he'd been quite delighted by Kurama's original body — but that didn't mean he couldn't be taught.

            Hate is a learned behavior, after all

            Kurama was intently browsing the Literature section when Harry popped up beside him. "Looking for anything particular?" he asked curiously.

            "Just... something easy for my step-brother. He's learning English in school."

            "Oh. Well, you're in the wrong section, then." Kurama gave Harry a bemused look as he followed the boy to a smaller section labeled "Teens" that was tucked into the furthest corner from the door. "This is the easy stuff." He grinned briefly. "We read some of these in primary school."

Kurama began perusing titles, while Harry grabbed a book and retreated to a footstool. Halfway across the store, he could hear Dudley complaining loudly that they didn't carry any decent comic books. He winced, wondering how in the nine hells his genes had managed to produce _that._

            Sighing, he placed another book in his growing pile. It seemed this particular branch of the family had produced almost nothing worth Kurama's interest—nothing but his granddaughter Lily, and her son Harry. And they were both _wizards_.  In fact, Kurama was rather partial to the idea of permanently ending the Dursley branch of his family. He highly doubted anything good could come out of it, if Vernon and Dudley were any example. 

            Petunia appeared from behind the shelves like—dare he say?—magic. "Are you having fun, Shuichi?" Her smile bordered on simpering. "I don't think I've ever spent so much time in a bookstore before."

            "I often do," he replied absently. "Books are humankind's greatest invention really." 

            Petunia looked doubtful, but smiled and nodded anyway. Kurama fought to keep the contempt out of his expression. These people were so—_mundane_—that it wasn't even funny. "Are you going to purchase that book, Harry, or are you just going to read it?"

            Harry looked up guiltily from the book he was perusing. "Oh… sorry." Red crept into his cheeks as he rose to put the book back. Petunia was scowling and looked like she wanted to say something particularly nasty. Kurama chuckled and shook his head. 

            "Don't be sorry, Harry. If you like it, why don't you buy it?"

            "Oh… I, uh, don't have any money. You know?"

            Kurama frowned and looked up at Petunia. "I'm sure Petunia would be happy to buy it for you. I'm sure it isn't half as expensive as all those video games she bought for your cousin."

            Petunia's expression indicated that she'd not be happy to do any such thing. Kurama found himself wondering if the shabby state of Harry's clothes was due to teen rebellion, as he'd initially thought, or because Harry's aunt and uncle refused to buy him any new clothes. 

            "...Or if not, _I'd_ be happy to."

            Petunia cringed, but said, "No, no, Shuichi, I'll get it."

            Kurama smirked at the gleeful expression on Harry's face. _'Come to think of it,'_ he thought, _'I don't recall seeing any toys or books in his room, besides his school things and some broken junk piled in one corner. I wonder if they _ever_ bought him anything.'_ He scowled inwardly. If they'd been abusing his favorite great-grandson.... Well, that could be dealt with later. 

~**~

            It was after dinner, and Shuichi was sharing a drink with Petunia in the dining room. Vernon had retreated as quickly as possible, Dudley had run off to meet his friends with a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, and Harry had gone up to his room, presumably to read his new book. 

            Kurama leaned back in his chair, idly trailing his fingers along the rim of the fine crystal shot glasses. "So tell me, Petunia... Why do you hate Harry so much?"

            The expression on her face as she choked on her brandy was quite gratifying. "What makes you think I do?"

            "Besides the fact that you treat him horribly? That you scowl at him every time he's around? That you refuse to buy him anything, even new clothes? Or the things Vernon says to him when he thinks I'm not listening? Good lord, Petunia, I've only been here a little more than a day and I can already tell you've been treating the boy like—"

            "It isn't like that!" she interjected angrily, face red. "You don't know him, can't understand what he's like—"

            "Than tell me!" Kurama stood, eyes flashing angrily. "Tell me what gives you the right to treat him horribly! Tell me why you can't be decent to your sister's only child."

            "You don't know anything," she screeched, leaping to her feet and slamming her hands down on the table. "You don't know what she was, what _he_ is—"

            "A wizard?"

            The blood drained from her face. Kurama briefly wondered if perhaps Hiei had snuck in and opened her from behind. "You.... you know." She sank slowly back down into the chair. The house was unnaturally silent except for her heavy breathing, and Kurama didn't doubt that the two other present residents were frozen in place, listening intently. "You know what he is."  

            "Yes." He folded his arms across his chest, frowning down at her. "I saw his school books." He hesitated. "Is _that_ why you hate him so much?"

            Her hands clenched into tight fists on the table. "It's disgusting." She looked up, almost fearfully. "You're not..."

            "No," he answered shortly. "I'm not."

            Her shoulders slumped with relief. "Thank God. If there were any more in the family...."

            "Petunia, if you knew _anything_ about your heritage..." He trailed off, not certain he wanted her to know who she really was. Who _he_ really was.

            She moaned and covered her face with her hands. "Were they all wizards?"

            "No," he said gently. "They weren't wizards. They... weren't even human."

            She gave an anguished cry, jerking her head up. "I'm not a freak like _him_! I _can't_ be! And... And Dudley...He's _perfect_. Too perfect to be one of them...."

            He pitied her then, and loathed her at the same time, and loathed _himself_ for producing such a pitiful creature. "Dudley is about as far from perfect as a person can get, Petunia. _And_ he isn't human, besides. At least, not completely. Neither are you, and neither is Harry. I suppose you _could_ say he's more freakish than you... But at least he doesn't try and pretend to be something he's not, Petunia. You must know something about your heritage. Didn't your father ever tell you the tale of _his_ father? The spirit-creature who dallied with your grandmother, and left her with child?" The horrified expression on her face told him all he needed to know. "It was true, Petunia."

            "_NO!"_ She leapt up wildly, knocking over her glass. "It can't be true! It just _can't be..."_

            "Calm down, woman," he said dispassionately. "I didn't bring Harry up in order to turn your world upside down—although it seems I've done so. No, I was going to ask you politely—well, not _ask_, now. I'm _telling_ you that I'm going to take Harry back with me to Japan. I expect you'll be happy to see him go. And I'm sure he'll be equally happy to be leaving you and your horrid husband and son behind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go up and let Harry know he needs to pack. I expect we'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

            He passed Vernon, who was lurking in the hall outside the dining room door. His round face was pale, and Kurama wondered how much longer the Dursleys would be one big happy family.   

~**~

            Harry was curled on his bed, staring blankly at the open pages of his new book. He hadn't been able to absorb a word after Aunt Petunia's incoherent shrieks had reached his ears less than half an hour ago. He wondered what Shuichi—Kurama—had said to her. He found himself hoping it was something extremely nasty, although his second-cousin/great-grandfather didn't seem the type. 

            Harry smiled to himself dreamily. To think, all these years Kurama had been just a hop, skip, and a jump (and an extremely long plane ride) away. The knowledge that the Dursleys weren't his only living relatives still filled him with warmth, even twenty-four hours after learning the truth about Shuichi Minamino. And it seemed he had another family in Japan, whom Kurama had assured him would be thrilled to meet him. Harry was dying to meet them.  

            It wasn't like Sirius wasn't a great godfather or anything, but he wasn't _family_ in the strictest sense of the word, and Harry had longed all his life for blood relatives who cared for him.   

            Not to mention the things he was learning about himself! He grinned, picturing the dashing figure Kurama made in his kitsune body. Harry half-hoped that someday he might be able to change into something like Kurama. After all, he wasn't really human, was he?

            There came a gentle rapping at the door, and at Harry's cheerful "Come in!" Kurama entered and shut the door quietly behind him. 

            "Enjoying the book, Harry?"

            "Yeah." He grinned broadly. "It was great, what you did earlier. Making Aunt Petunia buy something for me."

            Kurama's expression was neutral. "I take it she and your uncle don't buy you things often?"

            Harry snorted. "Are you kidding? They never buy me anything if they can help it. All my clothes used to belong to Dudley, and they always bought my shoes at thrift stores, since Dudley's feet are a lot bigger than mine. I think that's the first time anyone in this family has bought me something that I didn't absolutely need."

            His grin faded when he realized Kurama didn't seem to share his jubilation. "Is there something wrong?"

            Kurama frowned. "Besides the fact that Petunia and Vernon are horrible people who have mistreated my favorite great-grandson?" Harry lowered his eyes, and Kurama moved quickly to the bed, settling down next to him. "Don't feel bad, Harry. I know we haven't known each other for long… But I feel there is a great deal I could teach you, about life, the world… about your powers. If you'll let me, I mean."

            Harry looked up curiously, and Kurama smiled hesitantly. "What I mean to say is… Would you like to come live with me, Harry?"

            Harry would swear later that his heart stopped beating then. Did Kurama mean it? Did he really want Harry… But wait. Hadn't Sirius made the same offer? But Kurama wasn't a convicted criminal who'd escaped from Azkaban and was now on the run from Dementors….

            He swallowed hard around the inexplicable lump in his throat. "D-d'you mean it? Could I… Do you really want me to…?

            Kurama smiled warmly as he leaned over to wrap his arms around Harry in a gentle hug. His new book fell, forgotten, to the floor. "Of course I mean it. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."   

            Harry stayed in Kurama's warm embrace for several moments before reality gave him a nasty blow. He pulled away. "I can't, Kurama. I've got school… and I don't think Professor Dumbledore—my Headmaster—would want me to leave here. There are, you know, protections and things here. To keep me safe from Voldemort."

            Kurama frowned. "Don't worry about that. I highly doubt that some senile old wizard can provide better protection for you than I can."

            "Dumbledore isn't senile—he's the greatest wizard who ever lived!"  

            "That may be so, but…" Kurama shook his head. "No matter. Suffice it to say that I can provide equally… _adequate_ protection."

            "But school—"

            "That won't be a problem," said the redhead blandly. "We can fly back a few days before it starts."

            "Ah." Harry hesitated for a moment, then said, "But aren't plane tickets expensive?"

            Kurama gave him an odd look. "Nothing I can't afford. Don't worry, Harry. I'll take care of you."

            Harry couldn't help the grin that stretched over his face, and was thoroughly heartened by the answering grin on Kurama's. Suddenly, despite all that had happened, this summer was looking to be the best Harry had ever had.

~**~

            "Have you seen Hedwig's cage?" Harry asked urgently as he poked his head around the guest room door. "I could've sworn I left it—"

            "You already put it downstairs, remember?" Kurama hid a grin as Harry cursed under his breath and disappeared, presumably to find whatever else he had lost in the course of packing. Harry was quite obviously thrilled to be leaving—a fact that delighted Kurama to no end. _'Perhaps,' _he thought, _'it won't be that difficult to convince him to stay with me… and away from the wizarding world.'_

            Kurama turned as Hiei's energy tingled up his spine. "Is he almost ready to go?" Hiei asked as he swung onto the windowsill.

            "Almost. Is the room ready?"

            The Koorime smirked. "Filthy little room in the seediest place I could find. No one is going to be asking questions." He handed Kurama a folded slip of paper. "The address and key."

            "And the wards?"

            "Not even Genkai could pierce them."

            "Excellent." Kurama crossed his arms over his chest and smiled pleasantly at his companion. "I don't know how to thank you for all your help, Hiei. This would be highly bothersome without your skills."

            "You know how to thank me, Kurama. Just point me in the direction of that school of his," said Hiei with a bloodthirsty grin. 

            "The most difficult part will be unleashing the _kitsune_ within Harry without harming him," Kurama continued, pointedly ignoring Hiei's last remark. Kurama disliked harming children—even wizarding children—and Hiei well knew it.  

            "I reserved the room for two days," Hiei casually changed the subject.

            "I hope we don't need it that long," Kurama replied. "If we're lucky, we may be able to leave tonight."

            "_Really_ lucky." Hiei snorted. "Don't get your hopes up, Kurama. This will probably take a day, at least."

            And neither of them spoke of what would happen if Harry refused to undergo the change.

~**~

            If the cab driver found anything strange about a young boy toting a Snowy Owl, he didn't make any comment, although he _did_ give Harry some rather strange looks. But Kurama's soothing manner put the cabbie at ease—or maybe it was his stunning good looks, as the cabbie couldn't seem to take his eyes off Harry's great-grandfather.             

"Where ye be goin'?" asked the cabbie. Kurama silently handed him a slip of paper. The man looked a little surprised, but said nothing as he pulled away from the curb in front of the Dursley home.

The Dursleys hadn't come out to say goodbye; that didn't surprise Harry. What _did_ surprise him was that he hadn't seen them at all, despite the fact that it was nearly ten. Dudley _never_ missed breakfast, and Aunt Petunia would never be late fixing it. The house had been void of Dursley-life.  Harry wondered if it had something to do with Kurama's argument with Aunt Petunia the previous night. 

            He leaned his head against the window, eyes drifting shut. Hedwig hooted softly beside him, her cage belted in the middle seat. The gentle vibrations of the cab were making him tired. Consumed with excitement over his impending trip to Japan (and leaving the Dursleys) Harry had hardly been able to sleep. _It'll be all right if I just close… my….'_

            "Harry!" 

He instinctively jerked away as he felt a hand in his hair. "Geroff!"

            At Kurama's warm chuckle, Harry opened his eyes. "Sorry, I must have… fallen…" Harry trailed off, eyes wide, as he realized he was no longer in the cab, no longer _anywhere_ he recognized. "What…"

            Realizing he was flat on his back, he pushed himself up. Kurama, who had been bending over him, took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back. Harry's eyes slowly scanned the room—he was on a bed with stained sheets and a sagging mattress, the walls were dirty gray, the window covered with heavy brown curtains… and on the worn loveseat covered with paisley upholstery sat the strangest little man Harry had ever seen. 

            Black hair rose in large, gravity-defying spikes, with a ragged patch of white at the front. Large red eyes (_'Voldemort eyes…' _he shuddered) glared at him from beneath a white cloth wrapped around his forehead. His face was made up of hard angles, and a small mouth. He wore a dark blue tunic with a sword belt at his waist. The sword and a long black coat lay on the seat next to him. 

            Slowly, he turned to stare at Kurama. "What's going on?" The words sounded harsh, even to him. "Where am I?"

            The little man made a soft sound in the back of his throat. "Impressive. Didn't I tell you, Kurama? Exactly like Yusuke. And probably with similar power potential."

            Harry divided glares between the two. Kurama's eyebrows had risen in faint surprise. "Do you really think so, Hiei?"

            Harry tensed as hard red eyes scrutinized him carefully. Harry scooted to the other side of the bed and slid off, careful not to present his back (a rather tempting target) to either of them—and trying to keep the hurt from his expression as he groped in his pocket for his wand. 

Relief flooded through him as his fingers wound around the smooth wood and he pulled it out, pointing between them, ready to attack either. 

            To his affront, the little man—Hiei? —actually chuckled. Sharp features had a distinctly amused cast to them. "There's no mistaking that feeling."

            "WHAT'S GOING ON?" he screeched angrily, wand trembling with the force of his anger. 

            "Calm down, Harry," said Kurama placidly. "I'm not going to harm you, and neither is Hiei. Who, by the way, is a very dear friend of mine, and I expect you to treat him with respect." The last said in a firm, no-nonsense tone. 

            Harry's glare melted into an incredulous stare. "What's going on?" he repeated weakly. 

            Kurama and Hiei exchanged glances. "I told you, I'm taking you home. But first… First, I want—need—to do something."

            "Something…?"

            "To you." Kurama sat on the bed and patted the place next to him. The same look and gesture from a few nights ago. Feeling reassured (but not knowing why), Harry moved forward, this time to join his great-grandfather on the bed. "I told you that you weren't human—at least, not completely."

            "Yes." He stole a glance at Hiei—but the mysterious man had unsheathed his short, curved sword and was examining it - to all appearances, uninterested in what his "dear friend" had to say.

            "However, the aspects of you that aren't human are—for lack of a better term—locked away. Before I take you to Japan, I want to unlock your, er, inner _kitsune_."

            Harry thought about it for a moment. "So, do you mean I could turn myself into, you know, something like you did?"

            "Among other things, yes."

            Excitement welled in him, and Harry completely forgot his fright of a few moments ago. "_Awesome._"

            Kurama's lips curled into an amused smile—and was that relief in his expression? "I'm glad you think so. It will open new worlds—and endless possibilities—to you."

            Harry grinned broadly. "But that's _great_!" Hiei snorted from the love seat, but Harry ignored him. "Can you do it right now?"

            "That was the plan, yes," Kurama admitted. "But I must warn you, Harry—some aspects of the change might be painful."

            Harry frowned. "Painful? Why?"

            "Well, to cope with the changes, your body is going to have to change, as well. Like growing pains, except far more intense, as it will be happening in a relatively short period of time."

            "Oh."  He absently stroked his wand as he thought. "But it won't last long, will it?"

            "No," Kurama replied. "Not long at all."

            _'It can't possibly be any worse than the Cruciatus Curse,'_ he thought darkly. "All right," he said aloud. "How soon can we start?"

            Kurama and Hiei exchanged wry glances. "What?" Harry demanded.

            "I must admit, I find your enthusiasm a bit… odd," Kurama told him. "Most people, you understand, would be a little apprehensive in this situation." Harry gave him a blank look. Who in their right mind _wouldn't_ be excited? "Never mind," Kurama laughed. "I suppose we can begin now, if you like."

            "What do I have to do?"

            "Lay down and make yourself comfortable," Kurama promptly replied, rising as he did so. Shrugging, Harry kicked off his shoes and lay back, setting the wand next to him on the bed.

            "Normally, this process might take a good bit of time. But Hiei has generously agreed to assist me in this endeavor." Harry looked nervously at the strange man, who had put aside his sword and stood at Kurama's words.

            "There is no need to be afraid, Harry. I would trust Hiei with my life—have done so numerous times, in fact. Hiei has some very… specialized skills that will be highly useful to us in this."

            "How so?"

            "Hiei, come here, please." 

            Harry watched curiously as Hiei went to Kurama's side. The redhead stared intently into the smaller man's eyes for a second before placing two fingers lightly against the middle of Hiei's forehead. "Beneath this cloth, Harry, is something known as a 'Jagan.' A Jagan is a sort of implanted magical third eye that focuses—and sometimes increases—power. It can also be used for many other things, including delving into a person's soul."

            Harry gasped, and Kurama smiled. "It is a fearsome thing, Harry, and on the wrong person can be a tool of great destruction. The human legend of the Evil Eye originates from the Jagan."

            "What does it have to do with me?" he asked worriedly, nervously eying the Jagan-bearing man.

            "Hiei is going to use his Jagan to release the aspects of your nature that were subjugated by your human heritage."

            "Oh." Harry's eyes dropped to his wand. "So he's going to use it on me then?"

            "Never fear, Harry," said Kurama reassuringly. "Hiei knows what he's doing, and he won't harm you more than is absolutely necessary for this to work."

            "I see." It didn't sound pleasant, but… Squaring his shoulders, he raised his eyes to meet Kurama's and Hiei's in turn. "Let's get started, then."

~**~

            Pain. Unrelenting, endless pain. Welling from the depths of his soul, from heel to head, deep within his mind. He was consumed by fire. He was being eaten alive by tiny pinpricks, great roaring waves. He was dying; he was already dead. He was alive; no dead thing could feel what he did. Pain. Searing, aching, ripping him apart, melting him in turns. The world was black: nothing existed but the fire that raged within him, that twisted his spine and flailed his limbs and ripped screams from his throat until it was raw, and continued to rip. He was drowning in it, drowning in the fire. This was Hell, he was dead… It hurt, hurt, hurt, but he was still alive, wouldn't die, still alive, alive, alive, ALIVE!

~**~

            "Local cuisine," Kurama announced as he quickly shut the door behind him. For once, he didn't have to raise his voice to be heard over Harry's tortured screams. "Since you've expressed your dislike for everything else," he added as he placed it on the dresser next to the bed. 

            Hiei was no longer lying next to Harry, attention focused on nothing but the boy, but was now sitting upright on the bed next to him, still focused, but with less intensity. Coupled with the cessation of Harry's screams, Kurama took this as a good sign.

            "If they sat they serve Chinese food, then they should actually serve Chinese food, and not that altered imitation garbage," The Koorime said absently as he rose, turning his eyes towards the food and sniffing appreciatively. Harry gave a pained moan at the movement. "At least it smells good."  

            "Indeed." They fell silent as Kurama pulled the Styrofoam boxes from the plastic bag, as well as the provided plastic dining utensils. "It's over, then." It wasn't a question.

            "Yes." Hiei gave him a guarded look. "He's stronger than he looks—stronger than he realizes, I think. He should pull through."

            "He should," the redhead agreed. That didn't ease the tension however. 

            The one thing Kurama had neglected—purposefully—to tell Harry was that the process of awakening his kitsune aspects was potentially fatal. There was always the possibility that, despite his strength and heritage, Harry's body would simply be unable to cope with the changes, and he would be consumed by his own power and would perish. 

            He felt bad of course. But frankly, Kurama would rather see his great-grandson die than continue living as he had been. It was a crime, and a waste. Besides, Kurama had never really doubted Harry's ability to handle the change. Although being witness to the process was entirely too nerve-wracking for Kurama's peace of mind.  

            Leaving Hiei to start on the food (a mistake, if one was hungry, as Hiei had an astoundingly fast metabolism, as well as a miniature black hole in his stomach), Kurama leaned over the bed and rested his hand on Harry's forehead. Energy crackled up his hand and down his spine, and the boy stirred and moaned softly at the contact. Kurama was pleased to note that the energy was decidedly kitsune in nature, and that Harry's flesh had cooled significantly since he'd last checked, before going to get them lunch. The boy had stopped thrashing when he was away as well.

            Over twenty-four hours, and Harry was still alive. It was an encouraging state. Kurama was even furthered encouraged when the boy's eyes fluttered briefly, his lips parted, and the hoarse, barely audible whisper "Sirius," came forth. Kurama didn't know what "Sirius" meant (besides being a constellation, of course). But he had no doubt now that Harry would make it.

            The boy was his great-grandson, after all.

__________________________________

**Ginervra** – Thank you ^_^ Harry most certainly will end up at Grimmauld place, and most likely before his fifth years starts. As for Kurama… Well, I'm reasonably certain that he _won't_ be showing up at Sirius' place—at least, not anytime in the near future.

**Natsuki Sasahara** – Well, it just kinda hit me one night. I had just finished OotP, and was watching YYH on Cartoon Network, and it occurred to me quite suddenly that Kurama looked an awful lot like Lily Evans is described. And the bunny grew from there ^_^ And no, Hiei does not  (nor will he ever) have relatives who are wizards. And to answer your question, at no point will Kurama or Hiei ever _attend_ Hogwarts in the guise of students. However, they and several other youkai will certainly make appearances around Hogwarts, Kurama and a few others especially. ^_^

**SunSet Youko** – I'm working on it ^_^

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed, and if you haven't, feel free to. I won't mind. Really ^____^


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro, Shounen Jump, et al. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, despite the millions I'm making off this ***_coughIwishcough_**_*_

A million thanks to my fabulous beta, Ish. 

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but that whole "real life" thing can be distracting, sometimes. Reader responses at the end.

Thicker Than Water Chapter 3 

_He felt like he was drifting on a black sea. He floated on the surface, and beneath him he could feel the life straining towards him, wanting to reach, to touch, to drink of his essence. He was irresistibly drawn to it.  He reached back. There was something like thunder in the distance, then ripples in the water, disturbing his peace. A red-black presence twirled itself around him, pulling him back, restraining him. _'Easy, little one,'_ it said. _'You're too new yet.'__

_It coiled more tightly around him._ 'You must learn control first. Have patience. Your time will come.' _It flowed through him, and he struggled. _'Relax.' _It pulled at him, and then he was no longer floating. He was anchored, lying still, surrounded by physical barriers._

_It wasn't as bad as he'd feared._

~**~

He came awake slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the voices reaching his ears—a husky alto and a smooth baritone. He heard the sounds, but could not make out the words. 

His body was next, feeling creeping slowly back into strained and weary limbs. His fingers and toes twitched experimentally. He could feel the saggy, uncomfortable mattress beneath him. 

Smell came shortly after, his nose twitching as it caught the scent of stale sweat and hotcakes. Mmm, food. His stomach rumbled, which brought his attention to _other_ things that desperately needed to be taken care of. Groaning loudly, he opened his eyes.

A spotted gray ceiling hung above him. With effort, he turned his head, to the two blurry figures sitting nearby. "Kkkrrmmm," he croaked painfully, shocked at the state of his throat and voice.

Instantly, they stopped talking, and Kurama came to his side. "So you're finally awake," said the redhead and he put a hand to Harry's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Bathroom," he said with a great deal of effort.

After several embarrassing attempts to rise on his own, he allowed Kurama to carry him into the dingy bathroom. "Don't be ashamed," his great-grandfather said with a smile. "Your body has been through a lot."

It didn't lessen his embarrassment at all… especially when Kurama had to assist him in the _act_ of using the toilet. 

"It will pass soon enough," the redhead said complacently as he put Harry back into the bed and arranged the pillows so he could sit propped up against them. "Your body needs time to adjust to the shift. It went through a great deal of change in just forty-eight hours."

"_Two days_?" Harry rasped incredulously as Hiei silently handed him a cup of hot tea. "I was out for _two days_?"

Kurama chuckled. "Yes. These things take time you know." Still smiling, he sat on the bed next to Harry. "Do you feel any different?"

Harry hesitated. He _did_ feel different. His limbs, despite their lassitude, had a curious energy flowing through them. He sipped at the hot tea, a soothing herbal mixture with a very strong scent. "Yeah…" His eyes wandered from Kurama to Hiei, and back again, before he realized—"I can see!"

"Is that unusual?" Hiei asked sardonically.

"But I'm not wearing my glasses!" Resting the teacup carefully on his thigh, he reached up and groped tentatively at his face. "I can see without my glasses." Harry gazed at his great-grandfather in excitement and amazement. "You didn't tell me I'd be able to see."   

"To be honest, Harry, it never occurred to me. I suppose I've always taken it for granted that _kitsune_ eyesight is far better than that of humans. I have a feeling your eyesight may still be bad… just not by human standards."

"Oh." He turned his head to the right and saw his glasses sitting on the dresser next to the bed. He could see them clearly, could distinguish each separate piece. A grin stretched his cracked lips almost painfully. He'd never noticed before, but Kurama smelled of roses, and more faintly of vanilla. 

"Thanks Kurama, Hiei."

The two exchanged amused glances, silently communicating their satisfaction.

~**~

Harry was ready to leave by the next afternoon. He was still shaky, but Kurama had assured him it would pass. Hiei had disappeared during the night, but Kurama didn't seem concerned, so Harry didn't ask. He had other things to occupy his mind.

Like the strange, tingling-flow of energy that coursed through him. _"It's natural,"_ his great-grandfather had told him. _"Humans normally have to work to feel their body's energy; _kitsune_ are inherently aware of it. You'll get used to it."_

He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked, dirty bathroom mirror, and had been almost surprised at how… _normal_ he looked. As if there should have been some obvious physical indication of the energies he felt flowing through him… Although, if he squinted just right, his skin _did_ seem healthier, somehow, and almost as if it had a slight glow… But that could probably be attributed to the odd lighting. 

He shook himself out of his reverie with a small smile. 

"I let Hedwig out during your change," Kurama was explaining as he managed to force Hedwig's empty cage into Harry's already-full trunk. "She was quite upset, and she hasn't been back since."

"She'll find me," Harry said confidently. He was perched on the edge of the bed, watching Kurama repack. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from showering. "I don't think they would let her on the plane, anyway."

"Probably not," his great-grandfather agreed with a smile. He pushed Harry's trunk closed and lifted it easily. "Grab my suitcase, will you?"

Normally, Harry might have been a little insulted that Kurama assumed he wouldn't be able to carry his own trunk, but at the moment he was grateful for the lighter weight of the suitcase. 

He took one last cursory glance around the nondescript little room which had helped facilitate what would surely prove to be one of the most important moments in his life. Looked _without_ his glasses, which were now a comfortable weight in the breast pocket of his best shirt—a present for Dudley a few years ago, which had, even then, been several sizes too small. It was still a little large on Harry, but it was better than the rest of what he owned. He desperately wanted to make a good impression on his Japanese family—if all went well, he would be spending a great deal of time with them.

"Ready?" Kurama asked softly. 

"Yeah." Harry lifted the suitcase with little difficulty, and followed Kurama out of the room.

~**~

The London International Airport was a new and exciting experience for Harry. It was similar to the hustle and bustle of the train station and yet completely different at the same time. Since they had more than an hour until their flight left, Kurama allowed Harry to drag them into the shops that caught his eye.

Harry was amusedly browsing shelves of knickknacks for tourists when something occurred to him. "Hey, Kurama?"

"Yes?"

"Don't I need a visa or passport or something to go to Japan?"

Kurama looked a little startled, then smiled serenely. "Don't worry. I've already taken care of it."

Harry stared pensively down at the gaudy key chain in his hand. "But don't those require, umm, official documentation and things?" he asked, remembering when his aunt and uncle had had to get Dudley a passport for a summer trip to Jamaica. Harry had been left with Mrs. Figg, of course. 

Was it his imagination, or did Kurama look a little embarrassed? "Like I said, Harry, I worked everything out beforehand." 

"…But how did you get it so fast? Doesn't it usually take a bit?" He replaced the key chain and began intently perusing the large selection of shot glasses. 

A pause. "I assure you Harry, I didn't do anything… _illegal_ to get it."

Harry spared a glance for his rather amused-looking great-grandfather. "Are you sure?"

A discreet cough. "It was all very official," said Kurama. It was obvious to Harry that the other man was fighting a grin. Puzzled, he shook his head and glanced down at his watch. "Shouldn't we head to the terminal?"

"Of course, Harry."

The wait at the terminal was long and excruciatingly boring. Harry was pondering the merits of sleeping on one's feet when Kurama began fishing something out of his backpack. It was purple, and had a little foxtail key chain dangling from one of the zippers. Harry had found it very amusing.     

"I almost forgot, Harry—I picked this up for you while you were, ah, incapacitated. It's an English-to-Japanese dictionary for travelers. I thought you might find it useful."

Harry took the proffered book and began idly flipping through it. "Er, Kurama? Your family—they speak English, don't they?"

Kurama smiled sheepishly. "Not really. Shuichi—my step-brother—is taking it in school, and my mother and step-father both know a little…"

Harry winced. "You mean I'm not going to be able to talk to any of them?"

Kurama patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry. You'll get along fine. And I'll be there, remember?"

"Yeah…" Harry didn't share Kurama's optimism. 

"_Flight 427 to Kyoto, Japan, is now boarding."_ They both looked up as the message was repeated in several different languages, then grinned at each other. 

"Ready, Harry?"       

He shouldered his carry-on bag, tucking the dictionary into his pocket.  "As ready as I'll ever be."

~**~

 Kurama devoted most the flight time to basic lessons in Japanese pronunciation, grammar, and customs. Harry rather thought most Japanese phrases were a bit of a mouthful. "Wa-ta-shi no na-ma-eh wa Harry," he enunciated carefully as Kurama smiled encouragingly. 

"Not bad, Harry. Once you get used to saying the words, it won't feel so awkward."

Harry flushed a bit, but plowed on. "Dozo—like "bozo," right?—yo-rosh-ku." Kurama laughed, and Harry decided to try expanding his vocabulary. "How about—'Da-mare?'"

"Dah-mar-eh," he corrected with a smirk.

Harry shook his head. "This is so confusing."

"These things take time," Kurama said sympathetically. "Don't expect to learn it all in one go."

"Right." He bent over the book once more and struggled bravely on, Kurama interjecting often with useful tips on pronunciation and grammar. Finally Harry slammed the book shut, feeling as though he had run a several-mile marathon, although he'd only been at it for a few hours. 

"I think it's time for a break," he told Kurama, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. 

A forty-something Japanese man sitting across the aisle smiled encouragingly at Harry and asked, "Is this your first time going to Japan?" Harry thought he looked a little squeamish. Probably didn't like planes. Harry was finding them to be rather dull.  

"Yeah. I'm going to visit family." He couldn't help the broad grin that lit his face. He was going to visit family, and they _weren't_ the Dursleys. Could life get any better? 

"Wonderful," the man said vaguely, looking green. "This is my first time traveling on an airplane. I usually travel by others means, but I needed to, er, arrive at the airport…" Looking embarrassed, the man coughed and turned away. Harry turned to Kurama with a puzzled look on his face, but Kurama was watching him with a strange expression. 

"Do you recognize him?" the redhead murmured softly. 

"No," Harry replied, equally softly, and more than a little curious. "Should I?"

"He's a wizard, Harry."

Harry's eyes darted furtively to the man, then back to Kurama. "How can you tell?"

"I can smell him, of course." He added, at Harry's blank look, "Can't you?"

Harry sniffed cautiously in the man's direction. "Er… no. Don't think so. What's he smell like?"

"It isn't an odor so much as an intense tingling in the nose when I inhale."

"Ah." Harry rubbed his own nose thoughtfully. "I thought that was the air filter."

~**~

The airport in Kyoto was a confusing mass of hallways, trolleys, and people, all of whom spoke rapid Japanese. Harry wasn't ashamed to admit he found it all a bit intimidating, but Kurama clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered him confidently through the crowds. 

Still, it was a relief to finally be off the plane, and stretch muscles sore from the long ride. As they gathered their bags, however, Harry felt an unpleasant knot of anxiety forming in his gut. There were so many things that could go wrong. What if they didn't like him? What if they disapproved of magic like the Dursleys did (given Kurama's obvious disdain towards wizards, it didn't seem far fetched)? What if Voldemort showed up during the introductions and killed them all?

Well, the last seemed more than a little unlikely, but still….

They called a taxi to pick them up, and Kurama called his parents to let them know he and Harry were on the way. Harry was somewhat surprised to see Kurama had a cellular phone—he just didn't seem the type. "Come, Harry. We'll wait for the taxi outside."

As they walked, Harry shook his wrist free of the sleeve and looked at the battered face of his watch, which read 3:42 pm in bright green. Considering how dark the sky had been when the plan had landed, Harry found it highly unlikely to be correct. "Hey, Kurama—What time is it here?"

Glancing at his own watch, the redhead replied, "Almost one."

As if on cue, he yawned loudly. "Yikes! It sure is late. I can't believe the airport is so crowded."

"Major airports are always crowded, Harry," They stepped outside, and Harry shivered, surprised at the bite in the air. "You should see it in the middle of the afternoon. There's hardly enough room to breathe." Kurama dropped his bag at the edge of the sidewalk, and Harry set his trunk next to it. There were three other people who were apparently waiting for cabs as well. Harry's eyes wandered to the distant outline of city skyscrapers. 

"Is your family waiting up for us?" Having to wait up might make them less charitably inclined towards their English cousin. Harry knew the Dursleys became quite irate when they were forced to wait at odd hours for someone, even Mr. Dursley's beloved sister, Harry's Aunt Marge. 

"Yes. Tomorrow isn't a workday though."  

"Oh." A moment of silence. Then: "D-d'you think they'll like me?"

Kurama looked at him very seriously. "Of course they'll like you, Harry. What could possibly make you think otherwise?"

"I think that's our cab," Harry said quickly, pointing. The car slowed to a stop in front of them, and the driver stuck his head out the window and said "Minamino?"

"Hai," Kurama replied swiftly, hefting his bag. The cab pulled up to the curb, and the driver helped Harry heft his trunk into the back. The little knot of anxiety seemed to have grown into a bowling ball, he noted as he clambered into the backseat after Kurama. 

_'What'll I do if they don't like me? Will they put up with me because they feel like they have to, like the Dursleys, or will they just kick me out? But Kurama wouldn't let them… would he? He really seems to like me. And he _does_ seem pretty confident _they'll_ like me, too. But… '_

A gentle squeeze on his shoulder brought him out of his gloomy musings. Kurama's eyes seemed unnaturally bright in the dimness of the car. "Don't _worry_, Harry. They'll like you. Trust me."

"Do they—er, how do they feel about magic?"

Kurama suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well—they don't know about it, exactly."

Harry blinked. "You mean, about me being a wizard?"

"About a lot of things," the redhead replied evasively, his hand slipping from Harry's shoulder. His eyes flicked to the cabbie, who didn't appear to be paying any attention to them. "I haven't told my mother about my father's, er, rather unusual heritage, or about myself. My stepbrother knows I possess unusual abilities—he possesses a great deal of spiritual energy himself, and I have given him some basic instruction on its usage."

"So…they don't know anything about wizards, or _kitsune_ or anything?"

Kurama's smile returned. "Well, they _do_ know something of _kitsune_—they're part of our mythological canon—but they don't know more than the legends, and they know nothing of wizards, except what one finds in fantasy stories, and on television and in video games. Which is to say, very little that resembles the reality."

"Oh." That was one burden lifted. "But… If they did know, do you think they'd, you know, be upset about it?"

Kurama's hand returned to Harry's shoulder with another gentle squeeze. "I think you'd find that, presented with the knowledge of your abilities, they'd be inclined to accept you regardless…. Such things are often seen differently in Japan, and even among the English, I daresay Petunia and Vernon would be considered _most_ intolerant."

"Yeah," he replied, thinking of his best friend Hermione Granger's parents, who were Muggles but were very loving and supportive. So, er—Why haven't you told your family yet?"

"Oh look, we're almost there," Kurama said blandly, but smiled and ruffled Harry's hair. "Don't worry, Harry. Everything will turn out all right."  

Harry turned his attention to the street and saw they were now in what appeared to be a residential neighborhood. The houses, he thought, were almost disappointingly un-exotic. He took a moment to savor the sight anyway; after all, just a few days ago, he wouldn't have been able to see any of it, even with his glasses on!

The car pulled up to the curb, and Harry suddenly found it difficult to breathe. It had hardly seemed real up to this point, but now—now he was really going to meet the rest of his family. His mother's relatives, whom she'd never known. Ordinary, _human_ relatives, who had no reason to hate him. 

He saw the woman first, as he was climbing out of the back seat. She was rather pretty, he thought, despite the small lines around her eyes and mouth. She stood at the gate, beaming at her son as Kurama got out on the other side, closest to her. 

Shiori Hatenaka embraced Kurama, and Harry stood awkwardly in the street as the cabbie began hauling their things out of the trunk. Behind Shiori appeared an older man—Kazuya Hatenaka—and a boy about Harry's age—Shuichi Hatenaka. They were both, he noted with relief, smiling broadly. 

"Harry!" Kurama was gesturing him over. Shiori was beaming at him. 

Nervously, he approached, bowing uncertainly. "Watashi no namae wa Harry," he said, cringing at how awkward the words were. It hadn't sounded _that_ bad on the plane!

But Shiori actually looked _pleased_ as she returned the civilities, then, to his surprise, wrapped him in a tight embrace. "Welcome to our family, Harry." Her English was as awkward as his Japanese had been, but her words warmed him just the same.

~**~

Kurama watched with approval as his mother and stepfather warmly greeted Harry. He could tell his mother had already taken a shine to the lad—what mother wouldn't, with his under-fed, waiflike appearance, and large, haunted green eyes?

His stepbrother Shuichi hung back a little, eyeing Harry critically the way teenage boys often do. The older Hatenakas stepped back, making room for Shuichi, who didn't immediately come forward. The two boys sized each other up for a moment, and then Harry, looking uncertain, bowed 

When Shuichi didn't bow back, Kurama frowned, not wanting to scold the boy and start the two off with bad feelings, but also not wanting to let Shuichi get away with being so disrespectful. Then Shuichi stepped forward, and extended his hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry. My name is Shuichi." The words were stiff, but whatever Harry saw on Shuichi's face must have reassured him. He stepped forward and clasped the Japanese boy's hand. "The pleasure's all mine," he said sincerely. 

Shiori was beaming at the two of them. "Let's not keep him outside all night," she said cheerily in Japanese. She lifted Kurama's bag, and Kazuya grabbed Harry's trunk, waving off the boy's attempts to help. Kurama paid the cabbie (who had been perfectly content to wait while the meter was running), and followed his family into the house.

"We'll be putting Harry in Shuichi's room," Kazuya remarked, setting Harry's trunk at the base of the stairs.  "Help me take this upstairs." 

Kurama retrieved his own bag from his mother and grabbed one end of Harry's trunk. "Did I miss anything while I was gone, Hatenaka-san?"

"Not really. You had some mail." They made it up the stairs with little difficulty, and maneuvered the trunk into Shuichi's room, which already had a pallet set up beside the bed. "Well, there was one thing…"

"What?"

"A strange man came to the house a few days ago looking for you. He wore some sort of cloak, with a hood that covered all his face. When I told him you were out of the country, he became rather agitated, and left me an envelope covered in strange writing for you." Kurama had the grace to look embarrassed, and Kazuya smiled wryly at him as he positioned the trunk at the foot of Shuichi's bed. "I assumed it was just one of those mysterious things about you that we love and never question, so I left it on your bed."

"Thank you, Hatenaka-san."

Kazuya straightened with a grin. "Your mother has a little something prepared for you and Harry. Don't be too long."

"I'll just drop off my bag and take a look at the letter before joining you." They parted ways in the hall, Kazuya returning to the rest of the family, and Kurama to his room. 

Sure enough, the innocuous manila envelope rested in the middle of a dark blue comforter, covered with the crude symbols of the written Eastern Makai language. Cursing absently, he dropped his bag and grabbed the letter. "By the Hand and Seal of the illustrious Lord Yomi," read the front. Grimacing, he tore open the envelope and pulled out the thick parchment.

"Kurama, (it read)

I write to you concerning my dearest son and heir, Shura. His body has reached adolescence at last (having stalled for quite some time before having an abrupt spurt). He has become very powerful (not as powerful as I), and I have spent many long hours personally dealing with his training, as well as hiring the best tutors available for his supplementary education. However, he has reached that stage that I am told all young creatures must—the Rebellious Stage. I can teach him all the most powerful techniques in the world, but I, sadly, cannot seem to instill in him any sense of discipline. The boy lacks anything even remotely resembling self-control! Remembering that you possess an iron will and have a knack for teaching others humility, I have decided you are the only suitable candidate to further my son's education. It would displease me greatly to learn you feel otherwise. Expect Shura in four days' time. 

By my Hand and Seal,

Yomi"

Flabbergasted, Kurama stared dumbly down at the parchment in his hand. He was at a loss as to what to do—although screeching and stamping his foot like a wayward child was rather appealing at the moment. 

He didn't even acknowledge the smooth "shh" of sliding glass or his companion until a low voice said: "I take it from your expression the news isn't good."

Kurama raised his eyes to Hiei, who was settling himself comfortably in the windowsill. "The nerve of that man,' he said in a high voice. He was far too amazed at Yomi's presumption to be angry. "The utter gall." 

He passed the letter to Hiei, who scanned it quickly, brows quirking. "You'd better make up your mind fast," the Koorime said, voice thick with what sounded suspiciously like amusement to Kurama's ears. "By this date, Shura should be here the day after tomorrow."

"Oh, I'll teach that boy, all right," Kurama said, voice cold. "By the time I'm finished, Yomi won't recognize—"

"SHUICHI!" Shiori's voice floated up from downstairs. Kurama stuck his head out the door and shouted back, "I'll be down in a few minutes!" 

"'It would displease me greatly to learn otherwise?' That's terribly subtle of him." Hiei definitely sounded amused.

"And just vague enough to keep me guessing what horrors will be in store for me and my family if I refuse. Damn him, I'm not going to have time if I want to—" Green eyes suddenly sharpened as he turned a suspicious glare at his sometime partner and friend. "What are _you_ doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you have already returned to the Makai?"

Hiei smirked smugly. "Well, Mukuro _was_ terribly interested in this wizard grandson of yours, you know. She told me to take some time off and keep an eye on him." He gave a deep laugh. "How much you wanna bet that's the _real_ reason Yomi wants his son here? Being a descendant of yours _and_ defeating a Dark Wizard in his infancy… He must be powerful, indeed."

"And he _is_ powerful," said Kurama soberly. "Beyond my wildest expectations. Still… I suppose it can't hurt. I expect you'll be keeping an eye on Shura as well as Harry." It wasn't a question.

"Naturally," the Koorime agreed. 

The redhead sighed heavily. "Where to put him… I'm sure Mother won't mind, she's always had an inexplicable fondness for children. Hatenaka-san should take it rather well. It's certainly not going to be the oddest thing I've done." He snorted softly. "Speaking of odd, Hiei, would you care to join us downstairs for a bedtime snack? My family has become sadly accustomed to guests appearing out of nowhere. I'm sure they won't mind."

"No thanks." Hiei closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the hard frame. "It's been a long journey. I'd rather not deal with your hyperactive human brother."

"As you wish," Kurama replied absently, already formulating an explanation for Shura's presence as he shut the door behind him.   

~**~

Harry came awake abruptly. Something had disturbed his slumber, but whatever it was didn't immediately come to mind. He kept his eyes closed, relishing the warmth around him. He was wrapped securely in Shuichi's comforter, and lying in a bed almost as soft and comfortable as his bed at Hogwarts—Shuichi's bed. He'd been very surprised when the other boy had insisted on taking the pallet and letting _him_ have the bed.

Of course, the entire Hatenaka family had shown him nothing but kindness since he'd arrived. He rather thought they were like a smaller, Japanese, Muggle version of the Weasley family. 

He yawned and stretched, thinking this was just about the nicest family he'd ever had, when there came a soft tapping at the window. He was on his feet and shuffling forward before it even occurred to him that this wasn't the Dursleys, and the Hatenakas probably weren't used to owls arrive at the window carrying mail. But Shuichi was still snoring peacefully, and Hedwig seemed impatient to be let in.

"Hold on, will you?" Harry whispered sleepily as he slowly opened the window. "Be quiet, now."

Hedwig hooted softly as she jumped onto his forearm. Harry noticed she had a letter. "Is that where you went? I wonder who it's from." He gently detached it and transferred Hedwig to his shoulder. "Oh, Sirius," he murmured, recognizing the writing on the front. 

"Harry, (it read)

What where you thinking, running off with a complete stranger without even telling anybody? He could be a Death Eater for all you know! Everybody's been frantic these past couple of days trying to locate you when we realized you were no longer at the Dursley's. Mundungus Fletcher swore up and down he'd not seen anybody leave—yes, we've been keeping an eye on you. We sent old Arabella to your relatives' house, and the old bat practically had a heart attack when she learned you'd run off with some stranger claiming to be your cousin! Some of us (I'll not name names) were about ready to give you up for dead when McGonagall heard tonight from a fellow teacher who mentioned he'd seen you on an airplane headed for Japan. We even Portkeyed Hedwig over there so she could get this note to you sooner. GET AWAY FROM THAT BOY AS SOON AS YOU CAN! Hedwig should still have the Portkey attached to her leg. To activate it, say "Argyll shire." It will bring you to the Order's hideout. You and I are going to have a _long_ talk when you get here.

Sirius"

Sleepiness left him quickly, as if he'd had a bucket of cold water dropped on him. Anger built in him as he read the letter, then examined Hedwig's leg to confirm that there was, in fact, a Portkey—a small white ribbon tied quite prettily. 

Scowling, he ripped it off and tossed it out the window and turned away. The one time he _didn't_ want to leave the Muggle world as soon as possible and _now_ they wanted to take him away? "To hell with them," he muttered angrily—

—Froze as a burning heat of raw _power_ washed over him—

—Hedwig screeched in fright, lifting off his arm so fast she tore his skin—

—Turned, raising his arm defensively over his face—

—And met the burning red gaze of Hiei, crouched in the window, sheathed sword held forth, a mere inch away from Harry's wrist. "Nice reflexes," the little man said approvingly, lowering the sword. 

"Hiei!" he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting to be quiet in his shock. He lowered his own arm, heart pounding erratically in his chest. Tossing a look back at Shuichi , who was on his feet, he stepped back nervously. "Umm…"

But Shuichi just stood, blinking blearily. "Hiei-san," he said slowly, and then launched into rapid Japanese. Hiei replied in kind, and slipped into the room. 

"I believe this is yours," Hiei said in English to Harry, holding out the white ribbon he'd discarded. "It reeks of magic."

Harry hesitated a moment, then took it when Shuichi moved to his side, rubbing his eyes. "It's a Portkey." He frowned at the innocuous, fluttering ribbon in his hand, and then related the gist of the letter's contents to Hiei. 

"…and they tied this to Hedwig, it'll take me back to England…"

"They think he's _kidnapped_ you?"

"Not exactly, but they think he's going to off me, or hand me over to Voldemort, or something."

"Ridiculous." Hiei snorted. "It seems nobody is getting good news tonight."

"Na, Harry," said Shuichi, who, judging by his expression, hadn't been able to follow the conversation. "I believe that there is an owl on my desk, Harry."

Harry half-turned and Hedwig hooted at him irritably from Shuichi's desk, feathers still ruffled. 

"Wizards use them for sending messages, don't they?" Hiei asked curiously. 

"Yeah…" He mustered a reassuring smile for Shuichi. "She's my pet."

"Pet?" Shuichi replied uncomprehendingly.

"Yeah, pet." He raised his arm and called her name softly. She landed on his arm a great deal more gently than she'd left it. She was still quite irate, but allowed Harry to soothe her. It occurred to him belatedly that Shuichi probably couldn't see in the dark _half _as well as he could now, but the other boy seemed to be able to make out enough. 

"Cool…"

~**~

"The boys are still sound asleep. I'd have heard them if they'd woken up."

Kazuya relaxed marginally. "Still…"

"I'll check on them, just to be sure," Kurama reassured him calmly. "I'm sure it was just an animal outside somewhere."

"But what a sound!" Kazuya shook his head, smiling sleepily at his stepson. "If anyone could have slept through it, it'd be Shuichi. But check on them anyway, will you?"

"Of course, Hatenaka-san," he said softly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Shuichi-kun."

He waited until Kazuya had disappeared behind his bedroom door before moving on to Shuichi's room. He rapped softly as he pushed the door open just enough to slip through. "What were you _thinking_, Hiei?" he hissed irritably. "You woke the whole house up! Hatenaka-san was just about to come in here, and no matter _how_ tolerant he is, he wouldn't have been happy to find you in his son's room at four o'clock in the _morning_."

"But _'Niisan…"_ Shuichi said plaintively. "Hiei-san didn't do anything wrong. He just startled Harry's pet, that's all." 

Sure enough, Hedwig, who had hooted softly at his entrance, was perched on Harry's outstretched arm. Kurama's eyes traveled up to the boy's shoulder, where his nightshirt was torn, and damp with blood. "Are you all right, Harry?" he asked in English. 

"Stings like mad," his great-grandson said cheerfully. 

"I'll get something to clean and bandage it," he said kindly. Switching back to Japanese, he told Hiei much less kindly to leave. 

"Awww, let him stay," Shuichi hastily interjected before Hiei could either reply or depart. Shuichi had been rather in awe of Hiei since, having seen—and probably _sensed_ as well—Hiei around the house. He'd badgered Kurama for an introduction, which Kurama had felt obliged to supply.

"Absolutely not," Kurama replied firmly, irritated by Hiei's rather smug smirk. "_You_ have to get up tomorrow, and you know you're just going to be grumpy if you get no sleep."  At Shuichi's rebellious look, he added in a gentler tone, "Think about Harry will you? He's spent the last day on a plane. Can't you see how exhausted he is?"

Kurama knew very well that Shuichi couldn't see very well at all in the pre-dawn darkness, but the boy looked guilty just the same.

"I'll be around tomorrow," Hiei announced casually. The Koorime had never said anything about it but Kurama suspected he was flattered by Shuichi's admiration. "You'll be starting his training, right?" Hiei jerked a thumb in Harry's direction. 

"Tomorrow evening, yes." He kept his face smooth, but couldn't help but feel a little surprised that Hiei was expressing interest in Harry's training. 

"I'll be back then." Hiei nodded absently to them and disappeared through the window, but Kurama could still sense him. Obviously, he wasn't going anywhere tonight, which was just as well.

"Go to bed, Shuichi-kun," he said. Then, in English: "Come to my room, Harry. We'll take care of those scratches."

It was nearly six by the time Harry returned to Shuichi's room to sleep. And Kurama could barely keep his rage in check. "Take him back, will you?" he growled to the empty room. 

"Neither of you seems to have much luck with the post, tonight," Hiei's sardonic voice floated in through the open window. 

After dressing the scratches, which were deeper than he'd originally thought, Harry had showed him the letter from the wizard whom Harry claimed was his godfather. By the end, Kurama was as angry as his great-grandson had been. How presumptuous, thinking they could dictate where Harry could go, and with whom!

Still, he'd kept his feelings in check, more concerned at the moment with soothing the boy. Tomorrow Harry would write back—Kurama had convinced him, at least momentarily, that things done in the heat of anger were usually regretted later on. Besides, Harry needed sleep, not another distraction.

"So, what do you plan to do about them?" Hiei asked, apparently unperturbed by Kurama's silence. 

"Nothing, at the moment."

"And then…?

"If the wizards want to make an issue of it, that's quite all right with me," he said fiercely. "I highly doubt any of them would be a match for me in battle."

**Blood Cat:**  Your review was far from inadequate, I assure you ^_^ In fact, it was most flattering. Thanks for your support.

**Delphine Pryde:** Like, totally, thanks ^_~

**Zaeria:** As of this chapter, Harry has not completed his change—just the most difficult parts. And as for his wand—I firmly believe that a wand's "powers" are more on the psychosomatic side, and _any_ wizard is capable of using wandless magic, although the more they use their wands, the more difficult doing it _without_ becomes. That said, I think it's safe to say that, yes, you'll see Harry doing bits of wandless magic in the future. 

**Nightwings:** Yup, and thanks. ^_^

**Penterghast: ***gobbles Ecookies*

**Queen of Roses:** *laugh* Thanks. Would it be easier to understand if I posted a little "family tree" thing somewhere? 

**FireBird9900:** I'm flattered, really ^_^ And it wouldn't be fair to compare our stories, really. They're really just too different. But let me assure you, out of all the "YYH gang goes to Hogwarts" fics I've read, yours is by far the best. And don't worry, Kurama wouldn't be able to keep Harry away from Hogwarts. ^_^ 

**kat-kun:**I'm glad I'm not the only one who enjoys a good, manipulative Kurama ^_^ I believe that's the way he is, and I've tried very hard to stay true to my interpretation of his character. 

**hkall:**  Merci. Their relationship is extremely important to the plot, so I'm workin' on it ^_~ Thanks for reviewing, and I fully intend to take as much time as I need for each chapter, and I'm glad at least _one_ reviewer values quality over quantity. ^_^

**keira:** Your persistence is flattering. But please, have a little patience. Do try to understand that my life doesn't revolve around this fic, and I _always_ put RL concerns ahead of fandom. 


	5. Chapter 4 preview

Dear, darling readers,

No, this story has not been forgotten. Honestly, life has been so busy and stressful in the last couple of years that I've hardly had any time at all to devote to things like fic-writing, which makes me very sad indeed. I _have_, however, been working on chapter 4. It doesn't look like I'll be finished in the next couple of days, so I've decided to post the first half of the chapter as a little preview. It is completely unedited, and I'm in desperate need of a beta, but I hope you'll enjoy it.

On another note, this chapter has been really hard to write. It's one of those transitions, where nothing really happens but you can't leave it out. Ah, well, I hope it satisfies.

Now, to respond to a few readers with the most recent reviews-

Fuzzy Eared- 1) No, the Japanese. I'm quite positive that Ogata Megumi in this role would be classified as an alto. I may, however, have mis-classified Hiei's voice. Honestly, I'm not a music major or anything. Please be kind ;; 2) Hiei was on the bed with Harry, and Kurama slept in the bathtub--er, the couch, on the couch. . Oh, and I'm not sure what you mean by the Chinese take-out comment. I was never trying to insinuate that Japanese people eat only Chinese food, just that Kurama picked some up, and Hiei found it unsatisfactory. On your review for ch2-- Yes, Minamino Shuichi is not wholly Japanese. And while _kitsune_ have a myriad of talents (Harry will, as well)... Well, Kurama doesn't. Revealing why would be a major spoiler, so I shan't. But trust me, there's a good reason for it.

Shadow hunter 1 - Yeah, I'm a crack up, all right

Slice - Don't cry, I'm still working on it

-

"Dear Snuffles,

How are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking. The trip to Japan was very long, but worth it. My second cousin, Shuichi Minamino, is really great, and being with his family, the Hatenakas, is almost like being with the Weasleys. They're very nice people. I appreciate your concern, but I don't want to leave. In fact, I intend to stay until school starts. Even if I wasn't perfectly capable of defending myself, I am very well defended here. Assuming Voldemort could even find me, which I doubt. Dumbledore isn't the _only_ capable person in the world, you know. Try not to worry too much.

Love,

Harry"

He rather liked the way it had turned out. Polite, but firm. His fury had drained over the last few hours. Now he just felt tired.

He yawned and stretched. Outside, the morning sun had already filled the streets, and there were hardly any clouds in the sky. It was promising to be a beautiful day. The Hatenaka adults had risen already. He could hear them downstairs, Shiori puttering around in the kitchen, and Kazuya watching the morning news. At least, Harry _assumed_ it was the news, as that was what most adults of his acquaintance busied themselves with in the morning.

Shuichi was dozing on the bed, snoring lightly. Harry hadn't been surprised to find that, upon returning from Kurama's room, Shuichi was still awake, and impatient for an explanation. It had taken almost an hour of explaining before he'd been confident Shuichi had understood most, if not all, of what he'd said.

After seeing Shuichi's reaction to Hiei, Harry hadn't been too surprised that Shuichi had accepted what Harry told him without batting an eye. He'd shown Shuichi his wand, and even pulled out his history text to show Shuichi the moving pictures. Having never paid any attention to the text, Harry had been surprised to find it was a great deal more interesting than Professor Binns' lectures.

The book was now sitting on Shuichi's desk, next to Harry's finished letter. And the first couple of drafts of said letter, which had come out in turns, angry, childish, petulant, and whiney. Yawning noisily, he crumpled the previous drafts into an untidy ball and chucked them into Shuichi's wastebasket.

There came a soft tap at the door, and the hinges squeaked as Kurama quietly entered the room, leaving the door open behind him. Sympathetic green eyes took in the rumpled state of his clothes. "I hope you managed to get a little rest."

"I can't." Harry's brows furrowed, and he scratched his head. "I'm tired, but I'm—I dunno; I've just got all this energy. Too much to rest." The new tingling-flow of energy seemed to have increased tenfold in the past few hours.

"Strange," Kurama murmured, and Harry once again felt the shivers-up-your-spine sensation of Kurama's power—only this time, it seemed to encase his entire body. He was unable to suppress a shudder at the odd—but not unpleasant—feeling.

"Your spiritual energy is at a much higher level than normal," the redhead told him with a small frown. "You don't feel nauseous, do you? Have a headache, maybe?"

"No."

His expression turned thoughtful. "Interesting. I had wondered why the change hadn't any immediate effects on your power levels… Of course, your body would have needed time to adjust for sustaining increasing amounts of energy. How thoughtless of me to have not considered it before."

"…Huh?"

"Your power levels were still depressed from the change as of last night, but your body was already adjusting. As soon as it was safe to do so, you must have begun drawing energy into your body to replace what you'd lost… and then some."

Harry's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Drawing energy? From what?"

"The trees. The grass. The flowers." Kurama shrugged. "Earth. _Kitsune_ are deeply connected to nature. It is part of who we are. We constantly, unconsciously pull small amounts of energy from the earth around us. I will teach you to exert some measure of control over this, so that you may consciously draw more energy from the earth to replenish yourself, or shut out the earth around you as much as possible, as is necessary."

"But if we, um, take energy from the earth, then why would we want to shut it out? Isn't it a good thing?"

Instead of answering immediately, Kurama moved to the window, near Harry, and stared pensively down onto the lawn below, with its lush grass, flowers that were at once wild and tamed, and the large tree whose branches spread at such angles that did not prevent sunlight from getting to the greenery below. Harry stood and joined his great-grandfather, admiring for a moment the sheer beauty of the yard. He rather thought Aunt Petunia would be green as the grass with envy if she ever caught sight of it.

"I spent years cultivating this garden to its current state," the redhead said softly. "Brought in fertilizers, a diverse collection of plants. Painstakingly cleansed the soil of impurities and contaminates with my power, though I had little to spare at the time. Toiled countless hours so that this would be a haven of healthy, happy plants. No man-made chemicals have touched this ground for years. And believe me, it's much happier for it."

Harry raised his eyes to meet Kurama's sorrowful gaze. He shifted uncomfortably. "Not all the earth is this healthy, Harry. You would not have felt it on the drive from the airport—we have you under tight shields, Hiei and I—but the earth underneath the city is neither happy, nor healthy. Underneath any city, the earth is sickly, crushed by the weight of so much concrete, weakened by so many pollutants. In some places, it is even worse: places were the earth is close to death, already dead. Places where a miasma of illness, _wrongness_, hovers over the earth." He shook his head slowly. "You do not want the energy of such place inside you, Harry. It is…" Words seemed to fail him, and he shuddered: perhaps in remembrance, perhaps in horror. Maybe in both.

They stood in silence for an endless moment. Harry did not know how to respond to Kurama's obvious pain. Kurama seemed lost in thought, he gaze turned once again to the garden below. Finally, he gave himself a small shake, facing Harry full on with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Forgive me, Harry. It's far too early to be discussing such matters. I let myself get carried away for a moment." Harry grinned at him, forcefully pushing away the lingering unease Kurama's words had caused.

"I actually came in this morning to wake the two of you up. We've much to do today. No time for lingering in bed." He shot Shuichi's still form a fondly exasperated look.

"I wrote that letter," Harry said, grabbing the parchment and holding it out for Kurama's inspection. The redhead scanned it quickly, lips twitching.

"Not terribly eloquent, but it certainly gets the point across," he said wryly. He ruffled Harry's messy hair. "Are you going to send it now?"

Harry's gaze went to Hedwig, who was perched atop Shuichi's bookcase with her head under her wing. As if sensing his gaze, she lifted her wing to give him a one-eyed glare, communicating clearly that she had no intention of rousing herself any time soon.

"Er… maybe later."

Kurama smirked. "Let them stew for a bit." He bent over Shuichi, ungently shaking the younger boy. "You might want to take a shower now, before Shuichi awakes. He's quite the bathroom hog."

Chuckling, he grabbed a clean set of clothes as Shuichi groaned loudly at his stepbrother's ungentle ministrations.

After a quick shower, Harry was feeling more—or would that be less?—human. Even before leaving the bathroom, his nose was twitching (and his stomach growling) at the powerful scent of frying bacon drifting up from the kitchen.

He passed a bleary-eyed Shuichi in the hall, who muttered "Yo," as he shuffled by. Kurama stood in the doorway of Shuichi's room, chuckling softly.

"Ready for breakfast?" Kurama asked as Harry tossed his clothes carelessly on the floor.

"Starved."

They sat down at the disappointingly un-exotic table for a not-so-disappointingly un-exotic breakfast. Shiori beamed at him as she heaped piles thankfully recognizable foods onto his plate. Harry set upon them with gusto.

He was on his second helping when Shuichi made his belated appearance, looking a great deal more alert. "Ohayou," Harry said awkwardly around a mouthful of eggs.

"Good morning," Shuichi mumbled as he took the seat next to Harry. As Shiori piled food on his plate, he irritably asked Kurama a question in rapid Japanese.

Kurama replied in kind, then said to Harry, "Shuichi was just wondering why he had to be up so early when there isn't any school today. I told him it's because we're going shopping today."

Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow. "He has _school_ over the summer?"

Kurama laughed. "The school system is a bit different here than in Britain, Harry."

Harry reflected on how unpleasant school in the summer would be as he cleared his plate, then asked, "Um… Shopping?"

"Yes. I rather thought it might a fun thing to do on your first day in Japan. And you'll need a few new sets of clothing, of course."

Harry wondered if he was violating some kind of Japanese dress code, but looking from Kurama's black slacks and pale blue button-up to Shuichi's blue jeans and maroon t-shirt, and Kazuya's dark blue business suit (which wouldn't have been out of place on Uncle Vernon, except for being several sizes too small), he guessed there couldn't be much of a difference between Japanese and British clothing. It took him a few moments to realize Kurama had been tactfully referring to the _state_ of his clothes, not the style. Unpleasant heat crept into his cheeks.

"That's all right," he said quickly. "Besides, I don't, um, have any money."

Kurama eyed him critically. "Don't worry about it. I am more than capable of covering any expenses."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "You really don't need to—"

"But I _want_ to, and I _will_," Kurama said firmly, his expression brooking no argument.

Shuichi looked between the two of them curiously. "To argue with him will make no good," he informed Harry wryly. "My brother, he get his way like a cat."

"A cat, huh?" Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. "More like a fox, I'd say."

Shuichi looked puzzled, and Kurama politely stifled a chuckle behind his hand.

A few hours later, Harry was finding himself quite overwhelmed, in the midst of the largest mall he'd ever set foot in. Not that he'd ever really spent time in _any_ mall, of course. But it was surely large by any thoroughly experienced mall-goer's standards, much less Harry's. And packed wall-to-wall with more Japanese people than Harry had seen in his _entire_ life. He was sure he stuck out like a sore thumb… and his new clothes had a great deal to do with the feeling.

Kurama had taken the backseat in this venture, allowing Shuichi to exercise his fashion expertise. Which was vast, indeed. Shirts and pants of all colors and styles had been held against him, most being quickly discarded. Shuichi seemed to have grown eight more arms, all of which had been busy pressings things against his shoulders, his waist, even his hips. Trying the first load on had been even worse. Shuichi had turned him this way and that, examining him from every angle. He smoothed and tweaked the fabric. Harry was forced to slap those busy hands away no few times when they strayed into forbidden territory. Shuichi had impatiently told him to stop being like a fish.

Kurama laughed the entire time. Harry was sure of it, although he'd never actually managed to catch the redhead in the act.

Kurama must have given Shuichi a very large budget to work with, based on the obscene amount of clothing they'd ended up purchasing. Harry had protested several times that it was too much. Kurama and Shuichi had both turned deaf ears to his objections. Shuichi had even insisted he begin wearing his new clothes immediately—which was why he now walked stiffly between the two, weighted down by bags and feeling like he was dressed to kill. Himself, anyway.

The black khakis themselves weren't all that bad. Neither was the long-sleeved button-up white shirt. But together, combined with a sleeveless black cotton vest made Harry feel like he should b sitting down with an executive committee planning a corporate takeover, not strolling leisurely through a shopping center. Shuichi had assured him that the look was not overly dressy, but in fact "very _chic_." And Harry had had to admit, eying himself critically in the full-length dressing room mirror, that he cut quite a dashing figure. He was mortally glad he no longer needed his glasses, thinking how goofy he'd look with the large, round, taped-together frames. Not that he _cared_ how he looked, anyway.

Although the speculative way some of the girls were eying him as they passed made him feel a little giddy.

Currently, they were discussing shoes. "You'll need a pair of nice shoes, of course," Kurama translated as Shuichi rambled in Japanese. "And a pair of casual shoes, a pair of sandals, maybe a pair of boots, and—" Kurama cut off abruptly, giving Shuichi a coolly suspicious look. Shuichi smirked, and Kurama reached behind Harry to give his stepbrother a gentle smack on the back of his head, Shuichi, burdened with as many bags as Harry, could do nothing to retaliate other than stick out his tongue.

"Kurama-kun!" The three turned around. Behind them were two girls, waving. One was a little shorter than Harry, with brown hair brushing her shoulders. The other was taller, with light brown hair.

"Keiko-san, Shizuru-san," Kurama said with a smile. He then spoke rapidly in Japanese, and Harry understood enough words to realize that Kurama was asking how they were. He was rather proud of his rapidly-growing comprehension of the language. Why, he'd probably be speaking it like a native in just a few more years. The thought brought a smirk to his lips.

"….Harry." His eyes flicked to Kurama, then back to the girls. They were both giving him wide-eyed, startled glances. He wondered what Kurama was telling them about him.

"Harry," the redhead said again, and this time he was addressing himself to his great-grandson. "This is Yukimura Keiko—remember, surnames first—and Kuwabara Shizuru. They're good friends." He lowered his voice. "They know about me, so I've told them the truth about our relationship."

"What?" Shuichi said curiously. He'd given the girls a casual, "Yo," and a wave of his hand.

Harry ignored him, smiling awkwardly instead at the two girls. "Dozo yoroshiku, ah, Keiko-san, Shizuru-san."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry-kun," said the shorter one, Keiko, with a smile.

"Yoroshiku na," said Shizuru, followed by a phrase he didn't understand.

"Uh… Toire wa doko desu ka?"

Shizuru stared at him blankly for a moment, perhaps wondering what toilets had to do with anything, while the other three chuckled. Keiko said something to the other girl, who gave a bark of laughter and grinned at him. Keiko giggled again, then said to Harry, "Shizuru asked how you are liking it here."

"Oh, it's, er, very nice. I haven't really seen much yet, but…" He glanced at Kurama and Shuichi. "I like it a lot."

Kurama smiled warmly at him, and Harry grinned back. "It's good that you are enjoying it here," Keiko said, after translating for her friend. "We must go, but Kurama must bring you to the—the noodle shop soon."

"Hai, mochiron," the redhead responded agreeably. Mochiron… Harry recalled that it meant something like "of course."

"Aa, ja ne," he said with minimal awkwardness. He felt heartened when Kurama flashed him an approving smile and a wink.

"So how do they… you know, _know_ about you?" Harry asked as they watched the girls leave.

"Oh, we've had a few adventures together," Kurama said wryly. "I'll tell you all about it sometime."

"I know about it," Shuichi said with a grin.

"Only because you're insufferably nosy," the redhead replied. "Now, where were we?"

"Shoes. Lots of them." Shuichi grinned.

"Do I really need so many shoes?" Harry asked resignedly as Shuichi steered him into a shoe store. Shuichi nodded empathetically. Kurama merely laughed.

Harry _did_ manage to talk Shuichi out of the sandals. Kurama, however, added a pair of soft-soled indoor shoes. He insisted they were practical. Harry gave up trying to say no.

In addition to the new clothes, Harry was now wearing the shiniest pair of shoes he'd ever owned. At least, Harry consoled himself, Shuichi had to carry all the boxes.

"Well, you can't expect Harry to carry it all," Kurama replied innocently when Shuichi complained. "He's a guest, after all."

"_You_ could carry, also," Shuichi shot back.

"_I_ paid for it all," Kurama said reasonably, with a small wink in Harry's direction.

Luckily, Shuichi's grumbling didn't last long. "We are putting this stuff at home, then we are going to—to place of games. Then we can fight!" Shucihi said excitedly as the boarded the tram that would take them back to the Hatenaka residence.

"Um… fight?" Harry asked uncertainly as he took a seat between the bags and Shuichi.

"I think he means video games," Kurama said amusedly. "He wants to take you to the arcade a few blocks from home."

"Oh." He brightened. "I've never been to an arcade before."

Shuichi looked horrified. "Never been to…arcade?"

Kurama was frowning. "Don't you play video games, Harry?"

"Well, my cousin never let me play on his machines, and the Dursleys never let me go with Dudley and his friends to the arcade. Not that I'd _want_ to go with Dudley and his friends, anyway," he added hastily as Kurama's frown deepened.

Shuichi still seemed to be in shock. "Not… play games? Never?"

"Well, now is as good a time as any to start," Kurama said, frown disappearing into one of his brilliant smiles. "Right, Harry?"

"Right," he agreed eagerly. "I bet it'll be loads of fun."

"Cool." Shuichi grinned. "I will make you into expert of video games right away."

Shiori had been as excited by Harry's new wardrobe as Shucihi. At the other boy's prompting, he'd held out his arms and turned in a circle to model his new outfit. She's smiled widely, clapped her hands together and said, "Cool."

Harry was finding it hard to believe that Shiori wasn't Shuichi's birth mother. They had so many of the same mannerisms—right down to the petting and tweaking, which Harry endured with an awkward smile. There was no smacking away _Shiori's _hands!

She'd finally turned them loose after announcing: "Tonight we go to traditional Japanese meal." At least, he _thought_ that was what she said, as her English had been rather difficult to understand. Shuichi had groaned and rolled his eyes.

Currently, Harry was being dragged down an unfamiliar street by an overexcited Shuichi. He stumbled several times as Shuichi jerked him around by his arm, trying to dodge irate pedestrians. Kurama followed at a more sedate pace.

And this time, Harry _had_ caught him laughing.

Harry ran into Shuichi when the other boy abruptly stopped, still holding Harry's wrist in a vice-like grip. He released the wrist when they both stumbled, then tossed his arm around Harry's shoulders. As if, Harry thought, Shuichi suspected he might try to escape if he wasn't kept hold of. "Hurry, Kurama!" the dark-haired boy shouted impatiently. "We are here," he added for Harry's benefit, "but Kurama has money for your card."

Harry was struck by a sudden thought. "Shuichi, why do your parents call _him_ Shuichi, too? Wouldn't it be less confusing if they called him Kurama like everyone else?"

Shuichi looked thoughtful. "I think he is not wanting to be "Kurama" to our parents, he is wanting to be "Shuichi" because Shuichi is what all the parents want. "Kurama" is secret, very special. But he is not wanting them to know of him like this, yes?"  
"I understand. I think." It sounded to Harry as if Kurama as keeping his true powers and identity secret form Shiori and Kazuya. Did he fear that, like the Dursleys, the Hatenaka adults would want nothing to do with him once they knew what he was? But even though he's known them for less than a day, Harry had a hard time imagining the kind, easy-going couple _ever_ behaving like the Dursleys.

"Finly," Shuichi groused as Kurama joined them in front of the arcade.

"_Finally_," the redhead corrected. "And I just paused for a moment to speak with Kaito. An old classmate." He directed the last to Harry.

"Kaito is boring," Shuichi said blandly. "Let's go."

"The only reason Shuichi doesn't like Kaito is because Kaito can beat him at all his favorite video games," Kurama said in an undertone as they followed Shuichi in.

Harry bit back a laugh, his pondering on Kurama's secrecy forgotten for the moment.

As Kurama bought him a card—whatever _that_ was for—Harry took the opportunity to gawk. The walls were dark, the lights down low, and neon flashed from every direction. The place was easily twice as large as it had looked from the outside—and it hadn't looked all that small. Harry grinned, thinking Dudley would die of envy if he knew Harry had gone to a place like this. It must have been ten times the size of the little arcade Dudley and his stupid friends had frequented.

"Here you go," Kurama said, holding out what looked something like a credit card. Harry accepted it curiously. On closer inspection, it still resembled a credit card, dark blue with a black stripe on the back and covered in Japanese characters.

"It's a points card," Kurama explained, seeing Harry's confusion. "Each game costs a certain amount of points to play. Just swipe the card through the slot on each machine to play. Your card has six hundred points." The redhead smirked. "Don't use them all on one game."

Shuichi, who had been exercising an astounding amount of patience until that point, grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away from the counter into the maze of video games. Kurama, he noted with a startling amount of disappointment, did not follow.

Shuichi led Harry to a flashy looking machine in the middle of the arcade. "Good fight game," he told Harry. On the screen, a muscular blond man in red was losing miserably to a girl with gravity-defying hair who was wearing next to nothing. "The…moves? They are easy to remember." The dark haired boy then launched into a complicated explanation of the controls.

At least, Harry _thought_ that was what Shuichi was talking about. The other boy was using as many Japanese words as he was English, and the English words were for the most part in nonsensical order. Harry quickly figured out for himself that pushing random buttons while jerking the stick yielded the best results.

He had just lost spectacularly to Shuichi for the fifth time when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he was surprised to see a boy of about his own age with wavy blond hair and the biggest blue eyes he'd ever seen on a boy. He spoke softly in Japanese.

"Mitarai-kun!" Shuichi clapped the boy on the shoulder, speaking rapidly. Harry thought he recognized his own name come up several times.

"Harry, this is Kiyoshi Mitarai. We, uh… We are at school together, at Meiou. Very hard school. Mitarai-kun is… More smart than me. He helps me."

Mitarai's cheeks reddened slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." He offered his hand, which Harry accepted gratefully. He found the whole bowing thing highly awkward.

"Good to meet you, too."

Shuichi was grinning. "Mitarai's friend whose name is Amanuma wants to play with me, since all you do is lose."

Harry was startled to see a younger boy standing slightly behind Mitarai, and was embarrassed to have not seen him sooner. "Sure you can play…. A-man-a-mura." He enunciated the name carefully, hoping it didn't sound _too_ awkward. "I'm no good at video games, anyway. Maybe you can beat this idiot." He jerked his thumb at Shuichi—and only then did it occur to him that Amanuma might not speak any English.

"It won't be difficult." The boy surprised him, speaking with no accent that Harry could discern.

"You think that?" Shuichi asked indignantly, eyes narrowing.

"You want to leave these two alone and get something to drink?" Mitaai asked in a friendly way as Amanuma took Harry's place.

"Sure," Harry replied. "I don't have any money, though."

"It is of no concern."

Mitarai led Harry to the back, where a bar ran half the length of the wall. "He does not play often anymore, Amanuma-kun," the blond said as they reached the counter. "And when he does, he rarely finds someone worth playing with."

Mystified by the strange expression on Mitarai's face, Harry just nodded. "So," he said awkwardly as Mitarai ordered drinks, "you and Shuichi are classmates?"

"Yes," the blond answered with a smile. "We are in the same, ah, homeroom at Meiou. Although I sometimes wonder why; I do not understand how he passed the entrance exams!"

Harry laughed, and Mitarai winked broadly. "No, he is not stupid, just very lazy. He would not need my help if he would make some effort."

"I know what that's like," Harry said, thinking of how Hermione was forever giving answers to him and Ron. The man behind the counter set two tall glasses of soda in front of them. Mitarai raised his glass in a salute. Harry followed suit, and they clinked glasses before taking a long drink.

"I hope you are finding our country agreeable," Mitarai said after putting his glass down.

"Well, I haven't seen much of it," he murmured, remembering his earlier conversation with Keiko-san and Shizuru-san, "but it seems quite nice. Shuichi's family is really wonderful."

Mitarai nodded, as if he's expected nothing else. "So, you are Hatenaka-kun's... cousin? He was not very specific on that."

"Well, I'm really the second-cousin of Shuichi's step-brother, who's also named Shuichi."

"Step-brother?" Mitarai tilted his head to one side, looking puzzled.

"Oh, his—Shuichi's—father married the other Shuichi's mother..."

"Gikyoudai," said Kurama, seating himself on Harry's other side. "The word  
you're looking for is 'gikyoudai.'"

"Thanks," he grinned at the redhead. "Oh, Mitarai...kun? This is—" He  
swiveled in his seat to face Mitarai. The blond was staring at Kurama with wide,  
terrified eyes, his face gone white. "Mitarai-kun? Are you... Um, daijoubu desu ka?"

"K-Kurama-san!" The blond half-slid off the stool, looking ready to bolt.

Harry looked between the two in confusion. Kurama sported a queer expression, one Harry had never seen before. A sad half-smile.

"It's all right, Mitarai-kun," Kurama said softly. "So, you go to school with  
Shuichi." It was not a question.

Mitarai stared at Kurama, hand gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles  
had gone white. "Nanda--? Oh, ah, hai... Yes. I do."

Kurama took a sip of Harry's soda, ruffling Harry's hair as he did so. "I  
went to Meiou. Minamino Shuichi. Top of my class. That's the reason Kazuya-san insisted Shuichi apply there."

"Aa...Wakata."

"Oh," said Harry. "Wakata. That means... to understand, right?"

"That's right," Kurama murmured approvingly. "Shuichi mentions you often, Mitarai-kun. I'm pleased to hear you're doing well."

"A-arigato, Kurama-san," the blond muttered, slowly sliding back onto the  
stool. They all sat silently for a moment, the Mitarai said, "So, you are related  
to Kurama-san, Harry-kun? Does that make you..." He frowned. "Make you...  
like him?"

"Um..." Harry looked to Kurama for clarification. The redhead grinned and  
ruffled his hair again.

"Yes," Kurama said proudly, "He _is_ like me. But he was raised by humans."

Harry stared incredulously between the two of them. "So, um… Is Mitarai..kun another person you've had _adventures_ with?"

"Yes, you could say that," the redhead murmured. Strangely, Mitarai winced. Harry's eyes flicked between the two. He was completely confused, to say the least. What was going on?

After an uncomfortable silence that seemed to gone on forever, Mitarai stood, speaking softly to Kurama in Japanese. Harry was able to pick out Amanuma's name, and not much else. Then the blond turned to Harry, and bowed. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Harry-kun. I will hope to see you again."

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, uh, Mitarai-kun. Um, ja ne."

"Ja ne," the blond said with a grin. With a stiff nod to Kurama, Mitarai disappeared into the crowd. Harry toyed with his glass for an awkward moment.

"So… What was _that_ all about?"

"I'll tell you about it later," Kurama murmured, peering intently into the sea of bodies and machines. Harry had a feeling that, whatever it was, Kurama didn't want to talk about it. "We should get Shuichi and go," the redhead said more loudly, rising. "It's getting late."

"_Hai_!" Harry slid off the stool, grinning as Kurama rolled his eyes, and the two began easing their way through the crowd to find Shuichi.

And thus ends the preview. If you're at all interested in beta-ing for me, email or IM me. It's all provided in the profile


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